[It's certainly a strange feeling, seeing Emet go through all these familiar gestures and the faint and fleeting flickers of emotion he had grown accustomed to while they traveled over the First. Amal is insatiably curious, and had pestered Emet on as many occasions as he could for more information on the Ascians, on the world as it was, if he was so generous with his time... And he'd longed to ask more, but his free time had grown thin and then suddenly they were in a ruined Amaurot, fighting on a tower above the ruins.
It had all happened so fast, relatively. Despite some rest and then some running around, he feels like his head is still spinning from the craziness of it all. And now Emet is alive, as if nothing had happened-- as if Amal hadn't killed him with his own bloody hands.
His smile fades momentarily, like the sun hiding behind a cloud. He could be more difficult, rude, perhaps more cordial than the bit of openness he has now. But that isn't his way.]
You deserve to rest. And whoever thought to deny you that will answer to me personally.
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It had all happened so fast, relatively. Despite some rest and then some running around, he feels like his head is still spinning from the craziness of it all. And now Emet is alive, as if nothing had happened-- as if Amal hadn't killed him with his own bloody hands.
His smile fades momentarily, like the sun hiding behind a cloud. He could be more difficult, rude, perhaps more cordial than the bit of openness he has now. But that isn't his way.]
You deserve to rest. And whoever thought to deny you that will answer to me personally.