"Hm?" Elidibus looks puzzled. He'd been about to oblige by freeing his hand and shifting to a spot further along Lahabrea's arm. The exact places where the scritching is applied to the best effect should be carefully grid-searched! The Ascian is showing what might be to others an endearingly awkward level of self arrangement in this new position between the draws of beanbag and dragon. As well this whole matter of overlap changing to him being the smaller and more logical one to lean against the other.
But not so distracted as to miss feeling like he missed something important. "Be enough? Ah. Yes." Elidibus realizes it may be in reference to the notion he didn't need to do any overlapping at all. Not, there was some key matter he'd failed to observe in the public displays. To him, its use is one of trying to maximize contact needed to strengthen the Bond while also maintaining efficiency in a second task. He isn't naive. He knows mortals see and take more out of these actions than he would. One can argue he might even be aware that their race had once indulged, else wherefore would the discomfort of such displays have arisen between his fellow Unsundered?
But Elidibus had been thinking through the process just now as one would pour over an outline of dance steps as shown in diagrams in a book. Well, at least the realization that Lahabrea may have been speaking of something else seems to have hit him in good time.
Having finally settled, Elidibus ends up with one leg curled underneath him into the bean bag cushion and the other braced shin down against the coil of Lahabrea's tail wrapped around the base of his seat. His head and shoulders would likely settle somewhere against Lahabrea's stomach area. And his hands... Well, one goes about the systematic creep up the Speaker's arm. The other has reached into the satchel (again!!) and pulled out a book which, upon opening, is revealed to be something of a journal. So he has been writing things down after all. The writing in this case is the language very long dead to the world as their race, for that is its origin.
And he certainly hasn't gotten the journal enchanted against deciphering magic, he's just going to need to keep it close until he can suitably enchant it himself. Eorzean script is for a less private journal. This one has secrets. Like observations on dragons. He voices them as he picks up the pen and writes.
"The connection is clearer. Though one may infer this is as much to do with the full moon as it is our current position." Keeping up the journal writing and the scritching seems to pose no problem. The book is suitably wedged in a fold of the chair so it doesn't scoot around under the writing tool. His other hand moves steadily upward. "I can feel what caused the earlier fugue." That roiling creature underneath, though Elidibus doesn't linger overlong on its presence, so as not to draw too much notice to it. He knows Lahabrea is trying so hard. "Please tell me what you feel through me?"
Interest. Clinical observation. A hole in which emotions seem to stream without a sign of them ever hitting bottom. They may drain into the Emissary. But they do not seem to find purchase within.
Back then, while the first two might have been a majority when Elidibus studied something, that hole was unlikely to have been there. Instead perhaps a wonder and respect to all the differences of the world. Not which was right or which was wrong. But which was the best to serve all? And how fascinating it all was! To the point he'd often been reminded to go outside once in a while.
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Date: 4 Feb 2021 20:15 (UTC)But not so distracted as to miss feeling like he missed something important. "Be enough? Ah. Yes." Elidibus realizes it may be in reference to the notion he didn't need to do any overlapping at all. Not, there was some key matter he'd failed to observe in the public displays. To him, its use is one of trying to maximize contact needed to strengthen the Bond while also maintaining efficiency in a second task. He isn't naive. He knows mortals see and take more out of these actions than he would. One can argue he might even be aware that their race had once indulged, else wherefore would the discomfort of such displays have arisen between his fellow Unsundered?
But Elidibus had been thinking through the process just now as one would pour over an outline of dance steps as shown in diagrams in a book. Well, at least the realization that Lahabrea may have been speaking of something else seems to have hit him in good time.
Having finally settled, Elidibus ends up with one leg curled underneath him into the bean bag cushion and the other braced shin down against the coil of Lahabrea's tail wrapped around the base of his seat. His head and shoulders would likely settle somewhere against Lahabrea's stomach area. And his hands... Well, one goes about the systematic creep up the Speaker's arm. The other has reached into the satchel (again!!) and pulled out a book which, upon opening, is revealed to be something of a journal. So he has been writing things down after all. The writing in this case is the language very long dead to the world as their race, for that is its origin.
And he certainly hasn't gotten the journal enchanted against deciphering magic, he's just going to need to keep it close until he can suitably enchant it himself. Eorzean script is for a less private journal. This one has secrets. Like observations on dragons. He voices them as he picks up the pen and writes.
"The connection is clearer. Though one may infer this is as much to do with the full moon as it is our current position." Keeping up the journal writing and the scritching seems to pose no problem. The book is suitably wedged in a fold of the chair so it doesn't scoot around under the writing tool. His other hand moves steadily upward. "I can feel what caused the earlier fugue." That roiling creature underneath, though Elidibus doesn't linger overlong on its presence, so as not to draw too much notice to it. He knows Lahabrea is trying so hard. "Please tell me what you feel through me?"
Interest.
Clinical observation.
A hole in which emotions seem to stream without a sign of them ever hitting bottom. They may drain into the Emissary. But they do not seem to find purchase within.
Back then, while the first two might have been a majority when Elidibus studied something, that hole was unlikely to have been there. Instead perhaps a wonder and respect to all the differences of the world. Not which was right or which was wrong. But which was the best to serve all? And how fascinating it all was! To the point he'd often been reminded to go outside once in a while.