"I have not access to either the vaunted strength nor the shape change that others may possess." Puncturing that illusion of safety, that the bars could and would hold, is going to have consequences down the line. An animal certain it can't escape will rarely try to, learned helplessness preventing most attempts ... but that seed's been planted. All it takes is a whisper of doubt, after all the work he'd put in to securing at least one location against the inevitable.
There were no other Unsundered that might be dragged into this world unless it grew so cruel as to seize Amaurotines directly and inflict this hell upon them ... and that might well be worse than what's been done to him. He's had at least a few eons to adapt to unwelcome changes in environment or the attitudes of others.. but learning that adaption had come at a terrible price they'd all paid. Some poor soul snatched off the streets of the Black City would have no such familiarity, or explanation at all. Only the sudden horror like unto the End Times, though less contagious in its terror.
It's for the best, really. He wouldn't wish this fate on others of his kind.
This stubborn persistence was going to get Elidibus killed. He's certain of that too, whether by accident or design.
But wasn't contact supposed to help? Would it do anything about the warping of language into nonsense, the wavering sense of self and time, the boiling fury that never quite went away? None of it was as all-consuming as it had been the month before, but it felt like a near thing.
"If I tell you to leave, you will leave. No questions, no arguments. I will not have Ascian blood on my hands again." There's always a price, it seems, in trying to negotiate for anything with Lahabrea. This one might be rather less personally demanding than the last, of memory and effort into maintaining it!
But where is that little stash of jewels and precious metals? His gaze shifts to the side, weighing how safe it is. The cage is spacious, forged for something considerably larger than he was now, a cell more properly than merely a holding place for a beast in its tenuous comforts. But here indeed were the best of cushions, the softest blankets, the nicest area rug. His books, a magicked lamp. It might be better appointed than the sleeping space he usually utilized, but for the long stark shadows the bars throw. "And stay astray of the books." Which must thus be where he's also keeping his precious things, presumably the box they're stacked upon.
What a terrible temptation, putting all the reading material where murder would result if approached.
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Date: 3 Feb 2021 02:35 (UTC)There were no other Unsundered that might be dragged into this world unless it grew so cruel as to seize Amaurotines directly and inflict this hell upon them ... and that might well be worse than what's been done to him. He's had at least a few eons to adapt to unwelcome changes in environment or the attitudes of others.. but learning that adaption had come at a terrible price they'd all paid. Some poor soul snatched off the streets of the Black City would have no such familiarity, or explanation at all. Only the sudden horror like unto the End Times, though less contagious in its terror.
It's for the best, really. He wouldn't wish this fate on others of his kind.
This stubborn persistence was going to get Elidibus killed. He's certain of that too, whether by accident or design.
But wasn't contact supposed to help? Would it do anything about the warping of language into nonsense, the wavering sense of self and time, the boiling fury that never quite went away? None of it was as all-consuming as it had been the month before, but it felt like a near thing.
"If I tell you to leave, you will leave. No questions, no arguments. I will not have Ascian blood on my hands again." There's always a price, it seems, in trying to negotiate for anything with Lahabrea. This one might be rather less personally demanding than the last, of memory and effort into maintaining it!
But where is that little stash of jewels and precious metals? His gaze shifts to the side, weighing how safe it is. The cage is spacious, forged for something considerably larger than he was now, a cell more properly than merely a holding place for a beast in its tenuous comforts. But here indeed were the best of cushions, the softest blankets, the nicest area rug. His books, a magicked lamp. It might be better appointed than the sleeping space he usually utilized, but for the long stark shadows the bars throw. "And stay astray of the books." Which must thus be where he's also keeping his precious things, presumably the box they're stacked upon.
What a terrible temptation, putting all the reading material where murder would result if approached.