She's almost, almost managed to forget about it in watching the amaro happily receiving all the attention when he speaks up again. Gods damn it all.
"You say that like I wasn't injured too," Irhya replies dryly, squinting at him. "Besides, didn't I already tell you my whole purpose in asking was to avoid being too much of a pain in his arse about it?"
A part of her wants to go off further, about how she doesn't care about his disappointment or his general dislike of her bond with Emet-Selch, but she manages to turn her thoughts in a slightly less inflammatory direction. "And if he wasn't up to it physically or in the mood for it, I wouldn't push the issue." She crosses her arms, digging her fingers into her sleeves. "I'm not as much of an ingrate as you seem to think I am."
"You appear to misunderstand the extent of his injuries," Elidibus answers while handling a spot on the back that the amaro was happy to have handled, being it was itchy. "If you are currently thinking of asking him at all." He looks at Irhya, eyes flicking with no particular surprise to the tell-tale bald patches. He probably noticed them before and seems to understand what they imply. "Then your mind is more addled by the curse than I first presumed. This would apply as much to your recovery as his." He seems somewhat frustrated that he has to explain this, though it doesn't appear to be specifically directed toward the miqo'te.
More likely, it's that attitude Ascians have toward mortal tedium which so often manifests. Being trapped in a mortal body and having to experience matters at their level has hardly alleviated Elidibus of a millennia-long prejudice.
"Ingrate...?" The vocabulary momentarily gives him pause. Elidibus understands what she means but it indicates he's a bit distracted that he even dwells on it. An impatient sigh escapes him and he finishes with the tools. They're set aside to be cleaned out and put back later. For now, he starts working on the new saddle. "Far be it for anyone other than myself to presume knowledge of what I am thinking. But it is not on of your lack of gratitude."
Cinch a belt, crouch to pull a strap under the belly, make sure nothing's pinching the wings. Small huffs of air might escape with his words from these exertions. "This curse which heightens base instincts to a point where you would proposition an enemy to not be an inconvenience to another enemy." You personally had a hand in destroying he doesn't add. But he's putting any current relationship between Irhya and Emet-Selch aside in favor of a reminder of their shared past.
The Emissary closes his eyes and calms himself down. "I am concerned you are not currently capable of following through upon rational thought. Do not treat it as disdain or a matter of selfish behavior. But as a symptom of a condition that I will acknowledge you are suffering." Rising, the Emissary pauses to regard Irhya over the expertly crafted and no doubt flashy saddle.
Of course, he can't help but have some disdain or bias toward mortals. They both probably know it. He's spoken directly about it. But he seems willing to acknowledge that this case is a little different than the usual mortal tropes. Elidibus sets about checking the fit of the saddle while letting Irhya mull over what he just said.
Indignant, she opens her mouth to shoot off a response, but the instant, scathing reprisal doesn't come out. Her jaw clenches.
"Look," she says finally, "if you're that beside yourself that I asked you personally, fine, I get the message. But Emet is-- he's--"
Still an enemy, her mind throws at her, and she can't find reason to dismiss it. But he doesn't really still feel that way, right? It can't be, if he's been so kind to her, let her do all the things she has, even more or less acknowledged her as a friend.
The mental image of him placing the orange crystal into her hand is hard to scrub from her mind.
"I already told you I was trying not to pester him, and I am endeavoring to continue that. But I think you're letting some of your 'mortals are stupid' get in the way here." She might be contrary by nature, but not where it concerns other people's well-being. Her own, maybe. Not his. "I'm fine. He'll be fine, too. I'm not going to push him. How many times must I tell you before you're satisfied?"
"Look at you," Elidibus says with a frighteningly accurate mimicry of Ardbert's speech habits along with the general voice and charming grin, "using 'Emet' as if it is a personal name and not a proper title of office. Don't tell me that puca has rubbed off on you as well?"
If Irhya is keeping track she may mark a moment of 'getting under the Ascian's skin'. While he may be intentionally goading her, there is a little bit more irritation in the words than is strictly needed. And he certainly didn't have to lay the Ardbert on thick.
In any case Elidibus is on edge. While not flustered by the Warrior of Light's earlier proposition on any level, Emet-Selch's death experience and what it might actually mean was more than enough reason to have shorter patience than normal. Lahabrea and Emet-Selch may be here now but there was a time when they were not. Recent events served as a harsh reminder of the fragility of their circumstance.
The charming grin disappears. "Mortals are foolish. Harken to your own words. In the same breath promising you won't trouble another, leaving it ever a conveniently open possibility. Why should I be satisfied when I have seen what mortals do with such vague promises?" Elidibus won't deny his bias is not influencing his outlook at least. "Perhaps consider how oft deeds are more telling than spoken words, Warrior of Darkness."
The way he gives her title suggests a slight crack to the carefully caged emotions of anger he harbors to that particular person. Whom in another time and place is, after all, Irhya.
"Stop using his godsforsaken voice," Irhya growls tightly. They're getting to that point again, not unlike what often happens with her and Lahabrea. But it is interesting to note the sheer intensity of emotion he's displaying right now: the taunts were never this pointed, the anger never this direct, not when he could barely remember his reason for clinging to it in the first place. It had always been there in some measure, surely -- but how pronounced it comes out here is mildly surprising.
She glances from Filia back to Elidibus and says, "You'll hardly know if I do choose to keep my distance from him anyway, so even if I promise you that, of course you wouldn't believe it. But... dare I say we are both a tad too irritable right now to continue this conversation either way."
Without me decking you first, Ardbert's face be damned, she adds mentally.
Walking backwards without breaking her gaze on him, she leans against the side of the house, crossing her arms and looking sour. "So perhaps it is best you take your leave for now."
Filia is not graced with the blessing of sentience that sometimes comes to her kind after a century or so of life. She is young and it would be decades before something of that nature even manifests if it does at all. But she is smart enough in her own right to recognize the tension in the air and the emotions behind them. In particular those manifest under the careful veneer of her recognized owner. The amaro lets out a trilling noise those familiar with the beast would recognize as comforting, leaning her head closer and trying to press it against the brown-haired witch's chest.
It is sentimental and sweet and honestly not entirely lost on Elidibus even if what comfort may be accepted is on a subconscious level. A touch of surprise and a glance at the amaro observes the steed's responses before a soft sigh follows. Though the Ascian guides firmly Filia away from butting against his chest it is not lacking in gentle action or a discreet soothing gesture. Perhaps it is calculated to seem like he's going through the motions needed to settle a distressed animal. But there is much left to interpretation.
"I will not distress you further then." Same tone but at least Elidibus has returned to his particular brand of reserved formality with the words. He's calmed down at least- gone is the edges of anger in his words. He does not hide that he had emphasized the way Ardbert speaks intentionally, either. "But I will make no promises to not 'use his voice', as you so succinctly put it." There are reasons beyond what Elidibus admits, though Irhya need not know the Ascian doesn't have the capacity to do more than an exceedingly skilled mimicry of his real voice. Tired, stressed, or injured there will just be times he cannot help but sound like a shockingly formal Ardbert.
Elidibus frowns slightly. He'll certainly not arrest Irhya's movement to put distance between the both of them but he will remark on the assumption spoken of in the retreat.
"I ask you not presume what I will and will not know, nor what I will believe, Irhya." At least he returns to using her given name. Though she has unintentionally touched on another slightly sore spot, this time the Emissary keeps his temper in check. "I will be watching."
During this time he has finished the barding's arrangement and fitting - excellent fortunately otherwise how awkward would things have been? - and performed a hasty cleaning of tools before storing them away again. The functional saddle and tack are gathered up. Wisely the decision has been made to carry it with rather than put it back on. One might think it would be awkward to ride away from the encounter on a fantastic showpiece at this point but as Elidibus pulls himself into the saddle, there is a dignity presented that seeks to push such odd matters into the background. The spare saddle is braced before him.
Rather than further words, the Ascian favors Irhya with a short nod before nudging the amaro into a trot which will turn into a faster pace once they have reached the road. At least until they are out of sight. He could have offered words on the work completed but at that moment it seemed like it would have been too much. Word will be sent later of the gear's success.
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Date: 12 Apr 2021 11:23 (UTC)"You say that like I wasn't injured too," Irhya replies dryly, squinting at him. "Besides, didn't I already tell you my whole purpose in asking was to avoid being too much of a pain in his arse about it?"
A part of her wants to go off further, about how she doesn't care about his disappointment or his general dislike of her bond with Emet-Selch, but she manages to turn her thoughts in a slightly less inflammatory direction. "And if he wasn't up to it physically or in the mood for it, I wouldn't push the issue." She crosses her arms, digging her fingers into her sleeves. "I'm not as much of an ingrate as you seem to think I am."
no subject
Date: 13 Apr 2021 02:45 (UTC)More likely, it's that attitude Ascians have toward mortal tedium which so often manifests. Being trapped in a mortal body and having to experience matters at their level has hardly alleviated Elidibus of a millennia-long prejudice.
"Ingrate...?" The vocabulary momentarily gives him pause. Elidibus understands what she means but it indicates he's a bit distracted that he even dwells on it. An impatient sigh escapes him and he finishes with the tools. They're set aside to be cleaned out and put back later. For now, he starts working on the new saddle. "Far be it for anyone other than myself to presume knowledge of what I am thinking. But it is not on of your lack of gratitude."
Cinch a belt, crouch to pull a strap under the belly, make sure nothing's pinching the wings. Small huffs of air might escape with his words from these exertions. "This curse which heightens base instincts to a point where you would proposition an enemy to not be an inconvenience to another enemy." You personally had a hand in destroying he doesn't add. But he's putting any current relationship between Irhya and Emet-Selch aside in favor of a reminder of their shared past.
The Emissary closes his eyes and calms himself down. "I am concerned you are not currently capable of following through upon rational thought. Do not treat it as disdain or a matter of selfish behavior. But as a symptom of a condition that I will acknowledge you are suffering." Rising, the Emissary pauses to regard Irhya over the expertly crafted and no doubt flashy saddle.
Of course, he can't help but have some disdain or bias toward mortals. They both probably know it. He's spoken directly about it. But he seems willing to acknowledge that this case is a little different than the usual mortal tropes. Elidibus sets about checking the fit of the saddle while letting Irhya mull over what he just said.
no subject
Date: 13 Apr 2021 05:07 (UTC)"Look," she says finally, "if you're that beside yourself that I asked you personally, fine, I get the message. But Emet is-- he's--"
Still an enemy, her mind throws at her, and she can't find reason to dismiss it. But he doesn't really still feel that way, right? It can't be, if he's been so kind to her, let her do all the things she has, even more or less acknowledged her as a friend.
The mental image of him placing the orange crystal into her hand is hard to scrub from her mind.
"I already told you I was trying not to pester him, and I am endeavoring to continue that. But I think you're letting some of your 'mortals are stupid' get in the way here." She might be contrary by nature, but not where it concerns other people's well-being. Her own, maybe. Not his. "I'm fine. He'll be fine, too. I'm not going to push him. How many times must I tell you before you're satisfied?"
no subject
Date: 25 Apr 2021 23:11 (UTC)If Irhya is keeping track she may mark a moment of 'getting under the Ascian's skin'. While he may be intentionally goading her, there is a little bit more irritation in the words than is strictly needed. And he certainly didn't have to lay the Ardbert on thick.
In any case Elidibus is on edge. While not flustered by the Warrior of Light's earlier proposition on any level, Emet-Selch's death experience and what it might actually mean was more than enough reason to have shorter patience than normal. Lahabrea and Emet-Selch may be here now but there was a time when they were not. Recent events served as a harsh reminder of the fragility of their circumstance.
The charming grin disappears. "Mortals are foolish. Harken to your own words. In the same breath promising you won't trouble another, leaving it ever a conveniently open possibility. Why should I be satisfied when I have seen what mortals do with such vague promises?" Elidibus won't deny his bias is not influencing his outlook at least. "Perhaps consider how oft deeds are more telling than spoken words, Warrior of Darkness."
The way he gives her title suggests a slight crack to the carefully caged emotions of anger he harbors to that particular person. Whom in another time and place is, after all, Irhya.
no subject
Date: 26 Apr 2021 00:59 (UTC)She glances from Filia back to Elidibus and says, "You'll hardly know if I do choose to keep my distance from him anyway, so even if I promise you that, of course you wouldn't believe it. But... dare I say we are both a tad too irritable right now to continue this conversation either way."
Without me decking you first, Ardbert's face be damned, she adds mentally.
Walking backwards without breaking her gaze on him, she leans against the side of the house, crossing her arms and looking sour. "So perhaps it is best you take your leave for now."
no subject
Date: 1 May 2021 18:35 (UTC)It is sentimental and sweet and honestly not entirely lost on Elidibus even if what comfort may be accepted is on a subconscious level. A touch of surprise and a glance at the amaro observes the steed's responses before a soft sigh follows. Though the Ascian guides firmly Filia away from butting against his chest it is not lacking in gentle action or a discreet soothing gesture. Perhaps it is calculated to seem like he's going through the motions needed to settle a distressed animal. But there is much left to interpretation.
"I will not distress you further then." Same tone but at least Elidibus has returned to his particular brand of reserved formality with the words. He's calmed down at least- gone is the edges of anger in his words. He does not hide that he had emphasized the way Ardbert speaks intentionally, either. "But I will make no promises to not 'use his voice', as you so succinctly put it." There are reasons beyond what Elidibus admits, though Irhya need not know the Ascian doesn't have the capacity to do more than an exceedingly skilled mimicry of his real voice. Tired, stressed, or injured there will just be times he cannot help but sound like a shockingly formal Ardbert.
Elidibus frowns slightly. He'll certainly not arrest Irhya's movement to put distance between the both of them but he will remark on the assumption spoken of in the retreat.
"I ask you not presume what I will and will not know, nor what I will believe, Irhya." At least he returns to using her given name. Though she has unintentionally touched on another slightly sore spot, this time the Emissary keeps his temper in check. "I will be watching."
During this time he has finished the barding's arrangement and fitting - excellent fortunately otherwise how awkward would things have been? - and performed a hasty cleaning of tools before storing them away again. The functional saddle and tack are gathered up. Wisely the decision has been made to carry it with rather than put it back on. One might think it would be awkward to ride away from the encounter on a fantastic showpiece at this point but as Elidibus pulls himself into the saddle, there is a dignity presented that seeks to push such odd matters into the background. The spare saddle is braced before him.
Rather than further words, the Ascian favors Irhya with a short nod before nudging the amaro into a trot which will turn into a faster pace once they have reached the road. At least until they are out of sight. He could have offered words on the work completed but at that moment it seemed like it would have been too much. Word will be sent later of the gear's success.