The thing about this city that he's found most unsettling to date isn't the bizarre questions posed or their eerily compelled answers. It's not the utter lack of a population commensurate with its size or the occasional remnants that suggest there were once inhabitants of these spaces that only just barely left traces of their presence before vanishing. It isn't even, surprisingly enough, the rumors of the deceased coming back to life — considering present company, they're already something of subject matter experts in that, aren't they?
No, what unsettles him is how...benign it makes itself out to be. No scarcity of food. No wild animals to pose a threat. No particular threats, either of coercion or ransom. Quite the contrary; at times it almost seems to be catering to its residents, for a given value of service.
So naturally, he doesn't trust it.
And evidently he was right to be wary, given the way they wind up locked into the vault despite his every effort to maintain an awareness of their surroundings (no door of that size should've been able to shut that fast, and yet —), and there are many benefits that his expertise in infiltration and espionage afford him, including knowing grimly when he's truly and soundly caught.]
There is little and less I relish more than spending time alone in your company, Y'shtola, but believe me — I've far better ways of pursuing the privilege than this.
[Text, text, text. His hands are his own and he controls them. No malefic phantom has taken them from him; the fact that he's still able to type out nonsense is proof enough of that.]
no subject
The thing about this city that he's found most unsettling to date isn't the bizarre questions posed or their eerily compelled answers. It's not the utter lack of a population commensurate with its size or the occasional remnants that suggest there were once inhabitants of these spaces that only just barely left traces of their presence before vanishing. It isn't even, surprisingly enough, the rumors of the deceased coming back to life — considering present company, they're already something of subject matter experts in that, aren't they?
No, what unsettles him is how...benign it makes itself out to be. No scarcity of food. No wild animals to pose a threat. No particular threats, either of coercion or ransom. Quite the contrary; at times it almost seems to be catering to its residents, for a given value of service.
So naturally, he doesn't trust it.
And evidently he was right to be wary, given the way they wind up locked into the vault despite his every effort to maintain an awareness of their surroundings (no door of that size should've been able to shut that fast, and yet —), and there are many benefits that his expertise in infiltration and espionage afford him, including knowing grimly when he's truly and soundly caught.]
There is little and less I relish more than spending time alone in your company, Y'shtola, but believe me — I've far better ways of pursuing the privilege than this.
[Text, text, text. His hands are his own and he controls them. No malefic phantom has taken them from him; the fact that he's still able to type out nonsense is proof enough of that.]