Whatever unfortunate soul actually attempts to extract Aleron as bidden is in for trouble. That's why they've isolated the Seeker in the first place. He's as unmovable as a bulwark, and difficult to subdue when agitated. In fact, the one guard mutters something about 'unhinged' under his breath.
At present though, he seems utterly unaware of any conversation or persons outside the unlocked door. Rather, he's pacing the space, reciting the Chant as dutifully and clearly as a newly affirmed brother. The man has seen better days. His nose was broken some three years ago and never set properly. Same for one cheekbone that had been bashed and cracked and left to knit together causing a misshapen cranny on the right side of his face. But those are cosmetic details to the rest. He's clearly been fed red lyrium, copious amounts. His eyes have already taken on the red tint one expects as exposure is prolonged in a typical subject, his veins angry and throbbing crimson through the skin.
Really no one knows how he'll respond from one day to the next. Some days he's eerily tranquil, ignoring everything. The next, he's suspicious and paranoid, violent and aggressive when approached. Almost all days he's rambling nonsense, having long since ceased making any semblance of sense or proving of use for extracting information. Still, some fools try.
Today would have been a calm day, if not for the one guard who steps in to take his arm and lead him out. "Alright, just this way."
It's a fool's move. In an instant, Aleron has grabbed the guard's hand, somehow pushed him away, and used that momentum to spin him around and pin both arms under the poor idiot's armpits where he cannot hit or escape without assistance.
There's no snarl or anger lacing the tone of his voice, just the same cold stoicism he's displayed his whole life. "You will not harm them, else I will rip you apart."
no subject
At present though, he seems utterly unaware of any conversation or persons outside the unlocked door. Rather, he's pacing the space, reciting the Chant as dutifully and clearly as a newly affirmed brother. The man has seen better days. His nose was broken some three years ago and never set properly. Same for one cheekbone that had been bashed and cracked and left to knit together causing a misshapen cranny on the right side of his face. But those are cosmetic details to the rest. He's clearly been fed red lyrium, copious amounts. His eyes have already taken on the red tint one expects as exposure is prolonged in a typical subject, his veins angry and throbbing crimson through the skin.
Really no one knows how he'll respond from one day to the next. Some days he's eerily tranquil, ignoring everything. The next, he's suspicious and paranoid, violent and aggressive when approached. Almost all days he's rambling nonsense, having long since ceased making any semblance of sense or proving of use for extracting information. Still, some fools try.
Today would have been a calm day, if not for the one guard who steps in to take his arm and lead him out. "Alright, just this way."
It's a fool's move. In an instant, Aleron has grabbed the guard's hand, somehow pushed him away, and used that momentum to spin him around and pin both arms under the poor idiot's armpits where he cannot hit or escape without assistance.
There's no snarl or anger lacing the tone of his voice, just the same cold stoicism he's displayed his whole life. "You will not harm them, else I will rip you apart."