[CLOSED] You're a wolf

[archademode]

WHO: Gabranth and Emet-Selch
WHAT: it's time
WHEN: now
WHERE: Lowtown
NOTES: NA, will update as needed

He helps because it is needed. He helps because it is his sworn duty, because it stems the rising tide that weighs so consistently upon Kirkwall now: between the refugees and the need for resources, between roads no longer quite as safe as they'd once been, and turbulent seas, and news from Starkhaven, and turmoil within, and—

He ferries supplies to the smithy. The donated or salvaged supplies that cannot be saved, suitable only for a fair exchange in raw worth: crate held tight within armored arms, tucked beneath a decidedly unarmored chin, blond hair whipping in a strong dockside breeze, a mirror to the fluttering of his own dark cloak— trailing after him like a twisting shadow.

He passes stalls. Stands. Shivering silhouettes. Hungry stares.

It is the way of things. Only so much can be done.

Comments

[archademode]

"Not as of yet. But were Corypheus' efforts to prove lacking, where you stand now would undoubtedly make for the perfect point of sabotage."

He thinks of the gods. The countless, endless lives they fed to nothingness— waste unparalleled, unchecked, untamed. Gabranth had damned them for their lofty efforts, their supposedly necessary designs.

Emet-Selch reminds him of them now.

"Bark if you wish: there is no purpose that could justify such wanton slaughter."

[arkitect]

"We did not consider it wanton slaughter to begin with. Not that I expect one of your kind to understand."

They had never viewed it that way, at least. Not at the time. His arms fold, still watching Gabranth, but still keeping the same lazy posture.

"But allow me to make it more clear: our purpose could never be found here, even had it not been brought to an unceremonious end."

[archademode]

"I imagine your victims would disagree. As I so also disagree."

A monster knows its own kin; a wretch, the stench of sin. He is not his brother, but if there is some benefit to be drawn from that truth, it is that the man who stands before him now is no great mystery to untangle.

And to that extent, he lifts one gauntleted hand, willing away the suggestion of listening.

"Thus permit me to make myself more clear in turn: you are guilty of cruelty beyond measure, and you have done nothing to confess such profane misdeeds to those who now mark you as an ally. That, ascian, is an error that must now be remedied."

[arkitect]

Clearly, Gabranth has made up his mind on the subject, just as many who have stood against his kind have before; as expected, and nothing he cannot deal with, but still enough of an annoyance.

"I have already died for those selfsame deeds, but I doubt that would be enough for you, would it?" With a brief glance spared to Gabranth's weapons, he adds, "Nor do you seem entirely opposed to making another attempt at it yourself."

[archademode]

"If desire were permission enough, know that your punishment would be met already."

That luxury, however, has been ceded: he's no intention of sullying either his reputation or his own perceived reliability in the eyes of Riftwatch at large or its leadership. No, much as he strains in his tightened grip on those swords, he stays exactly where he stands— peregrine stare unspeakably sharp.

"Instead, I grant you time to consider the divulgences you intend to offer. The explanations you will no doubt give."

He turns, heavy cloak facing Emet-Selch's chosen perch— emblazoned scales blood red in waning daylight.

"Neither is of consequence to me."

[arkitect]

"Would it? You sound so certain."

A hint of amusement, at that. He's been killed once, yes, but not by Gabranth; he's more difficult than that to simply be rid of.

"But surely you realize your opinion upon the matter is of little consequence to me as well-- see me how you like, but I am no longer beholden to my lord. Your efforts are better spent with actual threats to this world."

[archademode]

“In this, we agree.” Gabranth snorts hotly through the edges of his teeth, pacing away from the source of his own disquiet.

What he fails to add, however, is the fact that one of those threats remains— to his mind— Emet-Selch himself.

[arkitect]

Well, he is often one to prefer the last word, and so he raises his voice just enough to still be audible.

"Then you have found common ground with one of us regardless! A relief to you, no doubt."

...But he doesn't need to speak his mind for Emet-Selch to be aware. Given the view he takes, the quickness with which he's chosen to leave-- of course he still sees everything the same way.

Which, naturally, makes Gabranth a threat in turn.

For the time being, he simply watches him leave, remaining where he is until Gabranth has left his sight; this, however, is something that's going to need to be reckoned with sooner or later. Preferable to establish a position sooner.