Necessity controls all the changed in this world. It's been a battle he's been fighting since shortly after arriving, and determinedly won for the most part til now, but instincts stymied, urges ignored, acceptance .. even the barest shades of acceptance utterly scorned tended to lead to terrible, uncontrolled rage. Eventually. He still had that control, and that was enough for him. The bars would surely hold, had to hold, because every week the fight grew harder and harder to win. Sometimes, he was vaguely sure, he didn't actually succeed, but those long days and nights in his own home, in his 'territory', with food and drink and hoard on hand, left little impetus for the beast to wander.
And when clearheaded.. or as much as possible, less reason yet to leave.
But this is the first time he's had anyone else there too, disrupting the flow, changing the sense of the night. Was it still enough to convince the creature he was becoming that it was safe, and home, and a secure territory that doesn't need constant defending?
"The illusion of time running out." Claws tap briefly against the obsidian, like marking out seconds. His tone hasn't risen back to that earlier sound of outrage, muted in the quiet of the basement. "The frail sense of false mortality: the past tempting us, the present daunting us; the future, a frightening inevitability. And our days slip away, moment by moment, lost in that vast, terrible in-between. Yet we have been given eternity for which to unravel that catalyst of fear and forge from it a glorious wonder."
How long did he have? Not an eternity. Not anymore. But he can be maudlin with his words, in the time that he had words to use. Elidibus is glanced up at as he rises, the question that follows not drawing an immediate response. The bars were there for the protection of others, the lock simple to manage but there too as a reminder of what must be.
"On these, of all nights?" He shakes his head slightly, the weight of changed horns an unfamiliar ache. "Foolish to ask. It would be unwise. I can guarantee no safety and care not to deal with what might follow should the days pass and I find blood staining my claws."
no subject
And when clearheaded.. or as much as possible, less reason yet to leave.
But this is the first time he's had anyone else there too, disrupting the flow, changing the sense of the night. Was it still enough to convince the creature he was becoming that it was safe, and home, and a secure territory that doesn't need constant defending?
"The illusion of time running out." Claws tap briefly against the obsidian, like marking out seconds. His tone hasn't risen back to that earlier sound of outrage, muted in the quiet of the basement. "The frail sense of false mortality: the past tempting us, the present daunting us; the future, a frightening inevitability. And our days slip away, moment by moment, lost in that vast, terrible in-between. Yet we have been given eternity for which to unravel that catalyst of fear and forge from it a glorious wonder."
How long did he have? Not an eternity. Not anymore. But he can be maudlin with his words, in the time that he had words to use. Elidibus is glanced up at as he rises, the question that follows not drawing an immediate response. The bars were there for the protection of others, the lock simple to manage but there too as a reminder of what must be.
"On these, of all nights?" He shakes his head slightly, the weight of changed horns an unfamiliar ache. "Foolish to ask. It would be unwise. I can guarantee no safety and care not to deal with what might follow should the days pass and I find blood staining my claws."