TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -
NOTES: -
- - -
- - -
- - -
Palæros would click his tongue at Victrian’s response, “...methinks you doth protest a bit too much, Victrian~...but I digress,” he’d say with a light but teasing smile.
“A shame about the alcohol, though…and the poison possibility. In life, I had an incredible constitution– was resistant to most things of that nature, though I’d be able to feel it, still,” and though he’d laugh, there was a discomfort he’d tried to conceal woven beneath. “Good to know how thoroughly the food is checked over, at least,” he’d add, that previous discomfort seeming to have vanished.
Palæros would briefly take a more timid demeanor, “...As I am, I’ve witchmarks rather than the greater vitality some of us are blessed with– but isn’t that funny? Some of us are more suited to resist poison than others and yet that isn't taken into consideration...
“...but I suppose that tangent is moot, no? I’d imagine it’d be… something of an exceptional oversight for the Semblers to make an error grave enough that it would actually affect any of us.” His voice was more gentle as he continued to muse, though as he finished the last sentence, he’d make a sharp inhale as if realizing something, then stop speaking; he came across as nervous, as if he’d spoken for too long.
Æros, though, was happy with how quick he’d figured out a rune of theirs each, nosy as he was; the information didn’t really benefit him per se, he simply liked to keep track of such things.
With regard to the Golden Guard and the Silver Sentinels, “I’d always admired the mages which composed both prior to the split– but I think I lack the discipline, so I’d never thought to pursue that path,” Palæros would comment, his voice smoothed over and more confident again.
And when the others commented about Janus’ folly, Palæros’ pale eyes would narrow, gaze shifting away from his company for a moment as he appeared to hesitate on a response. Both souls within had a guess; it was likely a shortsighted mistake made from having sat beneath Thalya for so long. Being so used to the Solar Sovereign’s unquestioned rule, to assume such slander as bribery would be leveled at the crown with any validity was…simply not something that crossed his mind? But they couldn’t quite explain that, because Janus’ cover was that he’d…misheard, that it’d never even been an offer.
“We can’t say. We only wish that he’d paid for his folly rather than us,” the possessed would begin, but then he’d grit his teeth, lips forming a hard sort of frown as he bit back words. “Retirement doesn’t seem quite the same in weight as living like this,” he’d say, though this was a markedly trimmed version of what one of two souls actually felt– the other sat silent, not wishing to vent his thoughts to strangers either way.
But then when Seværys changed the subject, Palæros’ focus would shift, appearing relieved. “I’ve always derived joy from dance, whether I’m performing or not, but…” he’d push his tongue to the roof of his mouth and breathe in, as if thinking about what to say. He’d laugh a bit before starting, “Palæmon does not have the flexibility nor endurance that I did in life, so while my soul, strangely, seems to ‘remember’ my old skills, translating it to his form is proving to be…an endeavor.” But then he’d smile something playful, “...but he is adapting quickly, at least!”
“Aside from that, though, I recently picked up bladework as of the start of the year. It’s thrilling, and a lot of the bodily control I learnt through dance can be translated into it, too.”
At this point though the words came from the same mouth, it’d come across like another was interjecting. “Hosting Æros has been nothing but exhausting,” he’d say, stronger than before and rolling his eyes, but still carrying a nervous air. “Previously, I spent most of my time shaping the gardens in our estate or lost in meditation with elemental spirits...I'm a horticulturalist, mostly.” he’d admit, almost sheepish in tone. “His cavalier approach to, ah…engaging in his more athletic pursuits after having purloined my body is certainly something…” he would sigh, but the exasperation carried an amused sort of air to it.
“...but at least we both relate in our love for magic. It’s enlightening to have another cast their Crafts through your skin…He has some I do not and one shared, that in life, I actually gave him. We each can only use our own Crafts, so it's...certainly a team effort, though I will admit it has been genuinely fun to start working together in that regard.” and to this, Palæros would give a smile that reached his eyes– this was the one silver lining to them, really.
Pale blue eyes would light up at the subject; he looked delighted. “Palæmon’s got Crafts I lack as well, and he’s right about the experience. I’ve…felt, hm…exceptionally…close to others in the past by means more magical, but there is nothing quite like spellcraft literally alongside another soul. It is more taxing if we swap control back and forth quickly, but...nothing gained without a little risk,” and he'd punctuate the sentiment with a little giggle.
“A shame about the alcohol, though…and the poison possibility. In life, I had an incredible constitution– was resistant to most things of that nature, though I’d be able to feel it, still,” and though he’d laugh, there was a discomfort he’d tried to conceal woven beneath. “Good to know how thoroughly the food is checked over, at least,” he’d add, that previous discomfort seeming to have vanished.
Palæros would briefly take a more timid demeanor, “...As I am, I’ve witchmarks rather than the greater vitality some of us are blessed with– but isn’t that funny? Some of us are more suited to resist poison than others and yet that isn't taken into consideration...
“...but I suppose that tangent is moot, no? I’d imagine it’d be… something of an exceptional oversight for the Semblers to make an error grave enough that it would actually affect any of us.” His voice was more gentle as he continued to muse, though as he finished the last sentence, he’d make a sharp inhale as if realizing something, then stop speaking; he came across as nervous, as if he’d spoken for too long.
Æros, though, was happy with how quick he’d figured out a rune of theirs each, nosy as he was; the information didn’t really benefit him per se, he simply liked to keep track of such things.
With regard to the Golden Guard and the Silver Sentinels, “I’d always admired the mages which composed both prior to the split– but I think I lack the discipline, so I’d never thought to pursue that path,” Palæros would comment, his voice smoothed over and more confident again.
And when the others commented about Janus’ folly, Palæros’ pale eyes would narrow, gaze shifting away from his company for a moment as he appeared to hesitate on a response. Both souls within had a guess; it was likely a shortsighted mistake made from having sat beneath Thalya for so long. Being so used to the Solar Sovereign’s unquestioned rule, to assume such slander as bribery would be leveled at the crown with any validity was…simply not something that crossed his mind? But they couldn’t quite explain that, because Janus’ cover was that he’d…misheard, that it’d never even been an offer.
“We can’t say. We only wish that he’d paid for his folly rather than us,” the possessed would begin, but then he’d grit his teeth, lips forming a hard sort of frown as he bit back words. “Retirement doesn’t seem quite the same in weight as living like this,” he’d say, though this was a markedly trimmed version of what one of two souls actually felt– the other sat silent, not wishing to vent his thoughts to strangers either way.
But then when Seværys changed the subject, Palæros’ focus would shift, appearing relieved. “I’ve always derived joy from dance, whether I’m performing or not, but…” he’d push his tongue to the roof of his mouth and breathe in, as if thinking about what to say. He’d laugh a bit before starting, “Palæmon does not have the flexibility nor endurance that I did in life, so while my soul, strangely, seems to ‘remember’ my old skills, translating it to his form is proving to be…an endeavor.” But then he’d smile something playful, “...but he is adapting quickly, at least!”
“Aside from that, though, I recently picked up bladework as of the start of the year. It’s thrilling, and a lot of the bodily control I learnt through dance can be translated into it, too.”
At this point though the words came from the same mouth, it’d come across like another was interjecting. “Hosting Æros has been nothing but exhausting,” he’d say, stronger than before and rolling his eyes, but still carrying a nervous air. “Previously, I spent most of my time shaping the gardens in our estate or lost in meditation with elemental spirits...I'm a horticulturalist, mostly.” he’d admit, almost sheepish in tone. “His cavalier approach to, ah…engaging in his more athletic pursuits after having purloined my body is certainly something…” he would sigh, but the exasperation carried an amused sort of air to it.
“...but at least we both relate in our love for magic. It’s enlightening to have another cast their Crafts through your skin…He has some I do not and one shared, that in life, I actually gave him. We each can only use our own Crafts, so it's...certainly a team effort, though I will admit it has been genuinely fun to start working together in that regard.” and to this, Palæros would give a smile that reached his eyes– this was the one silver lining to them, really.
Pale blue eyes would light up at the subject; he looked delighted. “Palæmon’s got Crafts I lack as well, and he’s right about the experience. I’ve…felt, hm…exceptionally…close to others in the past by means more magical, but there is nothing quite like spellcraft literally alongside another soul. It is more taxing if we swap control back and forth quickly, but...nothing gained without a little risk,” and he'd punctuate the sentiment with a little giggle.
- - -
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Vastien Tongue/Speech"
"Valasren Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
