[As she pulls back and stands up, Emet-Selch takes in the sight of her- distressed, dissatisfied, dismayed. A sight to further chill him in response- as though her words weren't enough to get his hackles raised. His reply comes without needing to think long about it.]
Or do you expect gratitude for deigning to give me your consideration? After all, you've tried for several months now- surely that entitles you something. You've rendered thousands of years of work for naught- an easy thing to counter with a sad look and a bit of praise to the departed. How terrible, to not embrace you with both arms. After all, you respect me. My consolation.
[Habit. Reflex. Honesty, in its most ruthless form. Lashing out because it's what he knew best; it didn't matter that he'd damage himself in the process.]
If you would prefer consistency, I think you know which direction it would lean in.
[A yet colder flash as he regards her, making no move to stand or approach. He'd thought he was trying- to not give in entirely to his own dissatisfaction, to not pull away or completely reject her. But that wasn't good enough; he didn't know what she wanted from him, apart from the 'truth' (but not too much of it). And in his own confusion, he shuts down.
Her last offer gets an incredulous stare; did he really seem like he'd want anything from her now?]
no subject
[As she pulls back and stands up, Emet-Selch takes in the sight of her- distressed, dissatisfied, dismayed. A sight to further chill him in response- as though her words weren't enough to get his hackles raised. His reply comes without needing to think long about it.]
Or do you expect gratitude for deigning to give me your consideration? After all, you've tried for several months now- surely that entitles you something. You've rendered thousands of years of work for naught- an easy thing to counter with a sad look and a bit of praise to the departed. How terrible, to not embrace you with both arms. After all, you respect me. My consolation.
[Habit. Reflex. Honesty, in its most ruthless form. Lashing out because it's what he knew best; it didn't matter that he'd damage himself in the process.]
If you would prefer consistency, I think you know which direction it would lean in.
[A yet colder flash as he regards her, making no move to stand or approach. He'd thought he was trying- to not give in entirely to his own dissatisfaction, to not pull away or completely reject her. But that wasn't good enough; he didn't know what she wanted from him, apart from the 'truth' (but not too much of it). And in his own confusion, he shuts down.
Her last offer gets an incredulous stare; did he really seem like he'd want anything from her now?]