Open and Closed Prompts

[notbert]

Who: [Post Orientation] Elidibus + ??? (Open)
[House Hunting] Elidibus + ??? (Open)
[Western Residential, Riverbank] Elidibus + Lahabrea (Closed)

When: 12/29 ~ 12/31
Where: Aefenglom, Various Locations
What: Newly arrived, calling himself 'Ardbert'. Faithfully followed by a large, grey feathered bird-lizard.
Warnings: Diplomacies. Half-Truths. Fish.





  _I. Post Orientation - Coven Courtyard - Open_

[Orientation. Approximate time spent from mirror arrival to building departure: ...Adequate to address the most superficial priorities, Elidibus supposes. Explanation, followed by measuring, followed by charitable offerings in the form of housing and basic necessities. And what was charitably called a 'communication device'. He had allotted a small portion of his attention to memorizing the information this 'Coven' offered. The rest he spent formulating his next real course of action.

Without hesitation he'd called himself Ardbert. Precious few people here would know any better and there really wasn't any reason to reveal his true name, now was there? If the Coven were to be believed, anyone that might care about 'Elidibus' would be as blind and deafened as the Ascian currently felt.

No reason to give anyone an advantage by blurting out the full truth, now was there?]

Gwee?

[This... sound was frustratingly familiar. The gray-feathered amaro that had somehow followed him through the blasted mirror squatted beside Elidibus and gazed inquisitively at him. So far it had shown no sign of ever moving more than the span of distance needed to properly follow the hyur body's pace. Not unless it had been given a bit of space and food to remain while the Emissary went through 'Orientation'. An old halter had been magically reshaped by a helpful stable attendant and Elidibus did hold the end of this. But it was hardly needed.]

We'll seek shelter soon enough.

[Abruptly he stops himself, momentarily letting his eyes close. Right, he's barely arrived and he's already speaking to animals. The amaro shakes her head, dislodging a faint wisp of snow settling in the feathers and Elidibus breathes out a trail of vapor, telling of the chill in the air. It's cold. Aether can no longer be flicked around to make him indifferent to such mortal concerns. While he's fortunate this body comes with clothes and gear made of fur and leather, gloves and warm layers, it's not perfect. The massive war axe strapped on his back was definitely not helping anyone keep warm. It's an instinct to make a gate, to teleport, to simply drift out of the body and leave its frailties behind and get a proper look at this world... again. Of course, none of this happens. Not even a fleeting shadow of it.

Blinded, deafened and sealed. This is suffocating.]

Why did I end up here?

[Words probably heard countless times over. And yet the man seems to expect some sort of comprehensive answer to manifest. Maybe, just maybe, he spoke aloud just to see if someone would answer.]



 _II. House Hunting - The Haven - Open_

[The Haven is the place Mirrorbound are sent to find free shelter. Free furnished shelter, even, all thanks to the magnanimity of the city's governance. It's a place to start anyway. Or at least to go through the motions expected of a refugee. Elidibus had no reason not to display complacency, along with just enough flustered response and confusion to keep the Coven from thinking he had any sort of dangerous plans.

Well, he doesn't. Not yet, as the jury's still out on what would be the best course of action. At the end of the day, the Emissary might well decide the best course is to follow the party line while pursuing his own agenda. How far that goes is anyone's guess. But when one is literally a prisoner in one's (borrowed) skin, you make doubly sure you have explored all your options. And Elidibus is nothing if not meticulous in pursuit of the best choice.

Right now, the mission is to look at a few listed addresses. Whether or not he would have settled for an apartment is made moot by the beast trailing dutifully behind him, hardly needing the halter lead held in the hyur male's hand. The grey feathered amaro was meant to be a mount and absolutely not suited for apartment life. Cottages in the district were occupied. One person and a mount might be a bit much for the next size up, but at least the possibility was offered.

The next address could be a few options:

An empty, ordinary home next door.

A place with an open room available and occupants willing to put themselves on a list for the government affairs to reach out to.

It could be the wrong address. He is, after all, new to the city. Just one lone man, clad in fur and leather gear, massive axe strapped to back and a gray feathered bird mount following behind.

....Honestly, probably not as alarming a sight as that sounds, here.]


_III. Western Residential District, Riverbank - Closed - Lahabrea_

[A brief amount of time has passed. Maybe a night, maybe a few days. This time has been spent well. First finding shelter, obtaining some necessities for the mortal body. Stabling the amaro. Useful though the beast may prove to be in getting around, there's still need for a proper saddle (most decidedly a luxury) and in some cases, it would stand out. When you want to explore with discretion and not have everyone you pass by stare at the exotic creature, you leave the giant gray-feathered flying bird at home.

Elidibus is not searching for something concrete. What he wants is knowledge. Right now, knowledge of the city's layout is the primary goal. What paper maps can't tell you, such as oddities or populace movements or acceptance. How the city flows. He's no less blind than the day he arrived. But in his travels, on foot no less, he seeks to accustom himself to this too.

It's best to know his limits in all matters. Not just the ones he wants to know, such as this new world's form of magic.

Travel, rest and watch and study. Travel some more. Anyone that could have bothered to watch the man for hours and was good with patterns would probably notice a very planned out way of travel. There's nothing haphazard about his journey, since the goal is to be most thorough. But on a smaller scale, Elidibus takes care not to seem too specific. Talking to people, laughing with them. Bartering a couple cune scraped together for a simple stall's meal. He's exploring, not spying.

All things have their limits. Perhaps not Elidibus the Ascian. But the mortal body he's been tied to does. Along the banks of the river, there's one long rest while finishing the bread and meat pie (mostly crust to be honest) and cup of tea in crudely fired pottery. It's not the greatest, but it'll give him the energy to get home.

One last idle look along the banks of the river draws him up short and his eyes narrow. He might not be able to see as he should, but it's sharp enough to catch a glimpse of something his subconscious says he must absolutely pay attention to.]


 _IV. Wildcard_

Looking for connections. Throw something my way! Or DM me and we can talk. This man enjoys studying all possibilities he can get his hands on before coming to a conclusion. (OOC: Will match post format!)

Comments

II

[unsundered]

[It was the Modranicht season, even as it was several days after the holiday itself, and this wasn't the first time Emet-Selch had been bothered in residence. It's why he even deigns to open the door, half-expecting some troublesome visitor with a late gift of some sort, even if it's not intended for him. It's a mansion-style house that he currently shares with one other person (his puca Bonded), who is currently out on his own affairs. Even though neither of them had been looking for anyone else moving in, someone had presumably noticed that the house was hardly at anything like capacity, and had added their address to a list of those where space was, technically, available.

His initial commentary- something along the lines of questioning the lateness of whatever delivery this was- is completely lost, vanished forever, as he locks eyes with the man at his doorstep, an amaro politely waiting behind the apparent warrior. A bored watchfulness, tired as ever (perhaps even more so, these recent weeks), parts for startle, surprise, recognition.

--A sort of recognition, anyway. If his soul sight had yet remained to him, there would have been no question, not even the slightest hint of doubt as to the identity of the person before him. As it was, there were two distinct possibilities, one a curious coincidence, the other... complicated. And so his gaze narrows, not precisely unfriendly, but- guarded.

He'd never met the original Ardbert, so that hero would have no reason to suspect or recognize him whatsoever (that a bit of the man's soul had been shadowing the Warrior of Light, the Ascian remains unaware of). He would be a complete stranger to the man, just another Mirrorbound caught and made to bend to this world's strange rules. But if this were Elidibus....

It's not unease in his heart, but a certain disquiet. The last he'd seen of Elidibus had been on depositing the Warrior of Light and their summoned allies back on the battlefield, and leaving without so much as a glance behind him. His task complete, his work done, he knew that the one who had once been Azem... would take care of the rest. Which happened to include ending Elidibus' life.

There were a lot of things in this moment that he realizes he doesn't know, and which very much mattered to know. Who was this? When was this person from? Why had he turned up at his doorstep, for that matter (the only reasons that occurred to him were either worrying or nonsensical). And he only had a few seconds to come up with a reply to this situation, vaguely irritated at himself for that initial, obvious surprise, no matter how quickly he smoothed it over.]

...Is there something you're looking for?

[Polite, neutral. It is also clear at a glance that Emet-Selch's current host has weathered quite a few injuries. Of the yellow eyes that stare cautiously at Elidibus, the right one is darker than it should be and fails to focus on him- blinded, it seems. Notable scarring is visible around the eye, but appears fully healed, the scars having the look of something that had occurred many months prior. Though there's the suggestion of fresher bruises around his neck, there's a more notable wound in that his right hand is bandaged tightly, currently useless. Broken only some weeks past, it still required protection.]

[fuelingfire]

The three days around the full moon are ... prepared for, as best as Lahabrea is able to. He'd put quite a bit of work into some sort of safety net for himself, though it had yet to be tested against true determined efforts to escape, and the cage he'd spent the last few days in wasn't... entirely uncomfortable but it was still a restriction and logic spent most of it warring with the indignation that he'd ever have to be locked up like some common beast, he was better than that, he--

Such thoughts, such excuses, were exactly the reason he was in there. And so for now, reason won out. But as the moon's influence faded and he found himself as wholly 'Lahabrea' as he ever got these days, there were things to attend to. Cleaning his cage out. Putting his books back where they belong, remaining food placed aside for pending bait, try to pretend the three days of utter humiliation didn't happen - but at least no-one else had been there to see any of it. That was the important part. Not even his neighbors, all monsters in this particular branch of the western residential, though they knew intimately what it was like around the full moons anyway and would surely have offered whatever help or comfort they could to the fledgling dragon in their midst, but he inevitably kept to himself as much as possible. Even now, with late morning's mist still burning on the half of the river that hadn't begun a relentless freeze, he's content to remain on his own, perched at the end of a dock extending partly out into the river, tucked up into a comfortable circle of warmth. No matter how much those new 'instincts' demanded he spend his time with others, he doesn't have to oblige it. What he does have to oblige is a mortal body's relentless need for nourishment, and so...

And so he's fishing. More or less. There's definitely a fishing pole, and some scattered crumbs of previous meals on the top of the water to lure in fish, but mostly he's there because there's a bit of wavering sunlight today, and the unadorned black robes he'd favored more lately did wonders for absorbing what little warmth there was to be had. His growing coat of feathers and long tail handled the rest; even in this biting and unwelcome chill he's not really cold at all, though how much is his clothing choice and how much is that fluffy tail of crimson and brass wrapped around him is a good question. Shadowy red-masked figures lurking at the end of docks with a fishing pole is not a normal sight in most places. But around here, this particular neighborhood knows to leave that shape to his own devices. So far the only ones who seem to get away with annoying him are the family right next door.

Others ... such as new arrivals to this world, might not be so wise. Especially when wearing very unfamiliar Warrior of Light flavored meat suits.

[notbert]

Distance blurs details and time takes memories. Logically speaking, seeing a lone figure in a robe and possibly a red mask just reeks of wish fulfillment.

But Elidibus is quite literally nothing if not an embodiment of hope. And thus everything bears investigation. If nothing more, he'll learn what else in this city has such familiar fashion trends.

He had not left the axe at home. It had been set to one side so it was easier to sit and eat, but it is retrieved and strapped across his back again. The Ascian is consciously aware of how comforting the presence of such a mundane thing is and finds it frustrating that his senses are acute when it comes to think like this.

Or how much colder it is along the riverbank than up in the residential streets where the buildings provide break to the wind.

This later bit he pretends to ignore while picking his way ever closer to the fisherman. For the moment it's certainly nothing more than one gregarious warrior type, strolling along the riverfront and working their way closer to the other soul - so far - in close proximity. The wind brings the sound of his whistling; a tune that probably has familiar styles, even if it is no specific song.

Elidibus is not out for the figure to recognize him, if indeed there's a connection. Certainly not as Elidibus. But familiarity might be found. A warrior's favored weapon. The style of gear and clothes- he'd certainly not seen the need to set aside his protective gear, much less the hallmarks of the body's known style, for the sake of 'going native'. But won't that all depend on how much Lahabrea bothered to notice on the fleeting flesh-things skittering around the surface of the sundered God?

Well, there might still be that distant, nagging familiarity nonetheless. This might be unwise. But it is still at least partially intentional, regardless of Lahabrea's identity.

[fuelingfire]

Out in the open, Lahabrea isn't one to let his attention drift much. With the approach of someone - unfamiliar silouhette, unfamiliar sound - he diverts his attention from the water's surface to slowly turn just enough to track unwelcome nearby motion. And uncoils slowly from his comfortable knot of feathers and robes in a slow slide of sanguine and gold on obsidian.

But the dock is on private land, owned by the shoddy-looking house not far away with barred windows and door, and no sooner does Elidibus make it clear where, exactly, he's headed that there's a sudden thunder of wings from a different, neighboring house, where three different harpies suddenly hop off their perches, having been making use of their morning sun as well, and unceremoniously drop around Elidibus in a whirr of feathers. They're still obviously humanoid, intelligent by the fact that they're wearing clothes, but they definitely have a very obvious ... songbird cast to them. Petite, fine boned, softly colored in gray, white and black feathers, and with a bright and active demeanor -- that is apparently going to be put to use trying to stop Elidibus dead in his tracks. Two are adult, one shaded more brown than the other, the third about half their size with what looks like a battered teddy clutched in one hand.

"Hello there!" It's.. not really possible to guess their sex based on voice alone, but the one with the slightly more bold coloration, with less browns and more white, seems utterly fearless in sidling a little closer. "Couldn't help but notice you're new in the area, couldn't help it! I thought it'd be right neighborly to drop in and say hello!"

There's a downside to trying to look pleasant and normal, Elidibus. That chick-child is reaching with a free hand towards the furry tops of his boots. "Is this REAL fur? Is it from a turnskin?? I bet it's from a turnskin! Why did you skin a turnskin, mister??"

The third casts a brief, apprehensive glance toward the dock, where their surly neighbor has noted their sudden interference.. and settled back down into his lump of shadow and bloody red. "Ann, don't pull on people's clothing. I do apologize, sir, but you're headed onto private property and the owner's a dragon. He's not very keen on visitors, you ken?"

That's all that would need to be said for anyone at all who normally lives in the city. They get away with it, they went out of their way to be friendly and helpful to what would eventually be a large and menacing neighbor if they didn't make inroads to neighborlyness as soon as possible, but random passers-by didn't gain that much freedom usually.

Re: II

[notbert]

[A meeting of two ancient beings should have had more. A palpable aura, perhaps. The tension is thick, but there are two mortal bodies and one fairly patient amaro regarding one another under dim lamplight on a doorstep. A fancy doorstep. But nonetheless, it might feel jarringly plain.

The light snow of earlier has become a little thicker and has started to coat the streets. It does add a weight of silence to the tableau, at least.

The carefully designed cheerful expression shuts down for a split second. Eyes lock on the visage of the familiar shell before him. Eyes threaten to narrow but force of will keeps them from doing more than twitch a bit. But the twitch is an important tell.

What is he doing here?

This all happens in seconds. Seconds that, for a layman, might be excused by the abrupt way the door is opened and an honest surprise on the homeowner's part at just what he found on his doorstep, seasonal expectations or no.

Elidibus is in the same boat as Emet-Selch, when it comes to Ardbert's experience. He doesn't have the advantages of possessing a living host, wherein there are memories to tap into and sort out, to take advantage of. He's left with what he personally observed, which is enough to make a passable effort at being Ardbert. To think quickly over matters such as whether the warrior had seen a Garlean when he visited the Source. Could this be used? Could that be used?

Should he? Yes. He is going to play this game. Particularly when Emet-Selch seems so inclined. There are other merits to it, though. Some perfectly mirror the other Ascian's. Where? How? When?

A haphazard, bemused look returns as the hyur male relaxes his features. Sure, neither of them might really be fooling the other. Still, a gloved hand holds up a list of jotted street addresses. Very clear marks meant to help the Mirrorbound navigate written street words. An address or two are crossed off already. Another few remain and the current at the top of the list is the one belonging to this manor. He is certainly not lost.]

A place to stay. [His voice is perfect mimicry of the Warrior of Light from the First.] Your address was listed, unless I'm mistaken. Or I've come at a bad time?

[Intentionally, the Emissary's gaze wanders from notable injury to injury. To be quite truthful, he's deeply disturbed to see the damage.

And enraged someone would dare leave lasting marks on one of his own. But when his gaze lifts to meet Emet-Selch's with inquiry, it reveals nothing of this inner turmoil. Only mild concern, as one would expect from a stranger.]

II

[seemstressed]

<sub>[Wallowing.

Tataru's been doing a lot of that lately, even though she's been trying her best to keep busy. It isn't as if the amount of obligations and tasks she has to complete have diminished - on the contrary. She's taken on more projects to distract herself but even that isn't enough to stop her mind from wandering at the end of the day.

The little Lalafell is in a house meant for far more than just one person but now, with Henry having departed, she's got the whole space to herself once more. The only company she has during the evening is her Familiar Shantotto, a large fluffy black dog, who dutifully does his best to keep his master in high spirits. Now it isn't as if the Witch is without a bond - she does still have one...but Sephiroth was elusive and not a person she wanted to bother unless there was reason to. Their Bond was akin to a business transaction and worked well for the two of them. Her Bond with Henry though...well that had been special.

The sound of barking coming from the other room has Tataru snapping out of her thoughts, as she stands on a step stool by the stove, stirring a large pot of beef stew. Covering the pot and moving it off the burner she hops down to pitter patter her way toward the front door. Someone was at it.

Telling Totto to shush she unlocks and pulls the door back, immediately regretting the chill that grips her as she looks up at her unexpected guests. There's a man, undoubtedly a Hyur (an actual Hyur, not a 'Human') and...what seems to be some sort of chocobo? No...it couldn't be. Then what? Blinking up at the pair she forces a smile on her face, her eyes wide and reflective, like two large glass marbles. For the moment the cold is forgotten, although the scent of warm stew is lingering in the air.]</sub>

Hullo...! _{[She cocks her head to the side, as if to get a better peak at the bird behind the Hyur.]} Is there something I can help you and your chocobo with, Sir?

[notbert]

Far be it for Elidibus to drift on to someone's private property. Without due reason or intent, or...

Oh. Well.

Just as he was beginning to realize the 'feathery creature' wrapped around the robed figure was, in fact, the robed figure and considers the possibility of a false alarm, a convenient flock of bird people descend upon the Emissary. He would have stopped to assess these new creatures anyway, mind you. But this should in no way lessen the success of their plan.

Stopped dead in his tracks, check. A cautious assessment drifts from one harpy to the other, studying features and gauging intent. It seems there's no real cause for alarm. Curious creatures, friendly enough and well-intentioned. The Ascian does notice the pensive gaze cast toward the figure at the dock and does pick up on the cues.

He grins to meet the amiable greetings head on. "Hello in kind," he tells the group. "I'm not exactly from around this area, but I appreciate the gesture." Elidibus even seems patient with the youngling's - or so he's guessing by size, teddy bear and behavior - approach. Those boot trims can absolutely be touched, if the harpy dares! And that's real fur there. You definitely can't fake a feel that real.

He does laugh a little. "Ann, was it?" The 'warrior' kneels as if to be more on level with the young harpy, meeting her gaze. "I only vaguely understand what you mean by a Turnskin. A 'Monster' of this world, no? Rest assured, this fur is from a beast of a very distant Star." He would deign to let the child poke at his gear a bit more, if Ann doesn't mind incurring another scolding from her.... parents? Well, presumably.

Does he ken? Yes, and while Elidibus nods, he also takes note of the apprehensive glance in the 'dragon's' direction. Oh yes. Another 'Monster'. Something similar, but not quite the same as what he's familiar with. It's almost enough, really, to dismiss the whole thing as coincidence. He's been told of course, that people brought here with the Mirrors can become Monsters. And he is personally experiencing the world's ability to seal his power and imprison him. But there's a marked difference between 'you just need to learn this world's magic' and 'this world can UTTERLY CHANGE AN UNSUNDERED SOUL into a Monster'.

"Ah, I see I'm in error. My apologies to you and your neighbor, then," Elidibus begins to straighten up, having decided an appropriate, friendly amount of time for Ann to be Ann has passed. Perhaps to move on his way. "Out of curiosity, does he have a name to go by? Perhaps I should apologize if I encounter him outside of his... territory." He doesn't really expect an answer that makes much sense. But he is going to cross the last T and dot that last I.

[fuelingfire]

Although Elidibus' gregarious friendliness is surely just an act, it works perfectly well on the small family of harpies, one of which puffs feathers up a bit, pleased. It's always nice to find friendly travelers! Even if this one seemed to be one of the Mirrorbound. Well that's alright, no reason to turn them away either.

'Monster' and 'beast' don't quite correlate in the much smaller harpy's mind, but she does for a moment look a fair bit alarmed. Beasts! Beasts on other worlds! "Was it scary?" It feels real to her! And once satisfied - or equally as much scolded again gently by one of her parents - she's .. she's going to examine this friendly new person a little closer, though it's VERY OBVIOUS she's keeping her hands to herself now.

"It's quite alright, quite alright! There used to be signs up, you know, but they blew away in the last storm and not a soul's had time to put them back up!" The more boldly colored - presumably the male - harpy pats Elidibus' arm with a cheerful sound that's suspiciously chirplike. "Why, just the other day--"

There's a sigh from the other adult, who prods at him with a wing. "Enough of that now, he's not here for a long chat."

"But he COULD be. He could be! Let's invite him over for a spot of lunch! Say, how do you feel about honey roasted crickets?" A delicious treat, to be sure, even for people who AREN'T birds. The chick AND the other adult both perk up a bit at this suggestion, it's pretty clear it wouldn't just be to put on a show. Maybe they just really enjoy company!

Ah right, names. "We just call him Red, because he's turning red," chirps the child, who waves cheerfully at the distant, darkly clad shape. "I'm Ann!"

There is a suspicious flick of a tail that might be a wave back.

The brown-feathered harpy rubs two fingers along her small beak, looking thoughtful. "I do know what he introduced himself as when he first bought the home some weeks ago, but since then he's been ... in a bit of a difficult place, you see." Her wings make a small gesture that somehow conveys avian helplessness. "I'm not sure you'd get a good reception if you called him by it, if you wanted to be neighborly. When my Samuel here called him by it recently, he said he wasn't worthy anymore and then wouldn't even join us for dinner. Red might be the safest thing."

[notbert]

[If we really wish to split hairs, 'Ardbert' is a Hume. But really, that is just a matter of popoto and po...potoe. Hm. The man in question had his head tilted to one side, having heard the light footsteps and judged someone small or someone very light approaches. So there's no awkward confusion. When there's obviously nothing at hume-level of height, he looks down. Interest shows on Elidibus' borrowed features. And recognition. He's seen this particular Lalafell before, faithfully doing her duties to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and most importantly being completely unaware of his presence. Wait, a lalafell? No, Ardbert would know her by a different word.]

A dwarf?

[An excellent mimicry of one Warrior of Light, Ardbert. His tone seems surprised. Very purposeful, that surprise. Conveying not just surprise at seeing a native from 'his world', but also a completely beardless dwarf. Exposed! He seems to relax despite the shock. After all, it's comforting isn't it, to see something familiar in a strange land?

'That' is definitely not a chocobo. The grey-feathered bird beast seems to oblige Tataru's attempt to get a better look by craning around the warrior's body to get a better look at the figure whose voice is heard but not immediately seen. ]

Gwee! [This is the beast.]

Amaro. [This is Elidibus, but spoken as someone who at least knows what a chocobo is.] Which means you aren't from the First, but a similar world. [Anyone from the First would know the much less rare amaro by sight, after all.]

My apologies! [Elidibus decides now would be the best time to seemingly apologize for the distraction.] Your address was on a list given to me. [The slip of paper in question is shown. Yup, addresses are upon it. Maybe Tataru's, maybe one very similar and this is just a slight misunderstanding.]

I am newly arrived to the city. I hope I am not disturbing you and yours this eve.

[seemstressed]

A dwarf? Oh no...I'm a Lalafell.

<sub>[That gets a brow raise out of her as she stares up at him, a bit taken aback. She's small, sure, but a dwarf? Then again, Yosuke had mistaken her for a similar being, hadn't he? She won't dwell on it. There are more important things to focus on.

The mention of the First grabs her attention. Urianger had told her a few tales of the other world but with caution at her request, as to not panic her and stress her out further. Coming to Aefenglom had been an ordeal, to put it lightly, and the appearance of multiple Warriors of Light had done her head in.

At least, as far as she can tell, this man isn't one. Or so she hopes.]</sub>

No no, you haven't disturbed me at all! _{[There's a dramatic wave of one of her little hands, as if to dismiss his apparent concern. If anything, he's just provided her with a much needed distraction.]} Come in, will you? Out of the cold...it's much too chilly to chat like this!

_{[Look she's from the desert, okay. She's Not about the winter by any means.]}

Although...will your Amaro be okay outside? I do have a shed in the yard out back...

[notbert]

When Elidibus wants to be, he is certainly good at being friendly. One might say that he's good enough it might as well be real. At least in this case, he has no malice directed at the family. Obliging the child keeps the parents happy. Happy birds sing. It's a simple equation.

"Ah, it was dangerous, but not scary. With a swing of my axe and the aid of my friend, we smote it down!" There are, of course, accompanying gestures. Such a tale can NOT be told without such gestures. Ann might get scolded, but at least toward her parents, Elidibus mimes a gesture suggesting he was not troubled.

And see? The birds sing... talk. And talk and talk, of assurances and signs, whether or not he's available for a meal of... was that crickets? At least he seems a little more curious than dismayed. It's not like the body couldn't accept such a meal, but would it be better to accept or refuse?

"I can't possibly trouble you," Elidibus finally offers, having made his decision. Well, it is more reasonable this way, to politely refuse on the grounds of being virtual strangers. "Though maybe I can do something about the signs..."

Red, is it? Ann earns a smile in return for Lahabrea's nickname and her own given. "Greetings, Ann. You may call me Ardbert." It's not necessarily his name, but there you have it. The wave and return flick of a tail do not go unnoticed.

Elidibus' interest returns to the brown-feathered harpy, looking a little more keenly interested. This is, after all, unsolicited information. Red is CALLED Red, but it is not his name. And the other harpy is Samuel. Which leaves the female's name.... and the robed and masked dragon's real name. How best to unravel this puzzle?

"Red is safest, is it? I'll bear that in mind." Elidibus nods politely. "So... Samuel, I take it?" He looks at the male harpy. Then to the female, "May I have the honor of your name madam?"

[fuelingfire]

Out on the dock, content to ignore vile socializing going on, Lahabrea works on reeling in a fish in the most utterly mundane way ever. Not so long ago he could have simply MADE a fish, or ignored the needs of an unaccommodating body by simply picking up a new one. Whoever the stranger is, the neighbors have intercepted, and it was a small favor he'd owe them. They weren't.. terrible, for mortals, but certain lines in the sand did need to be maintained.

How much of what Elidibus is saying is the truth is utterly irrelevant because Ann is thoroughly delighted by all of it. There is VERY CLEARLY an axe involved, it's that axe and it's absolutely certain there will be imaginative re-enactments later. "And then made into boots!" She has no boots, but she also doesn't seem to need them, with long delicate bird toes. "Beast boots! With fuzzy edges!"

Apparently the stranger doesn't much mind entertaining a child for a few minutes, so this time there's no scolding about any pestering going on. "It's no trouble, no trouble at all!", 'Samuel' declares firmly. "We're all in this together, we're happy to share!" Honey roasted crickets! Not exactly meal fare but a delicious sweet snack nonetheless, with a nice buggy crunch. "But if you'd like to help put the signs back up, I won't say no, not at all. Extra hands lighten the load! Though we'll have to find them all again.."

How To Prevent Problems With The Dragon Neighbor is an important thing to invest in for any neighborhood. Figuring out what to NOT call one to offend it is an absolute priority. The male puffs up again in apparent glee when his name is repeated, feathers sticking out ridiculously around his clothes. But before he can answer, the other does, looking amused. "Ardbert, hm? You'll do well around here with an attitude like that. I'm called Riona, we live a little ways up the road if you'd like a visit. We're always happy to have company."

[notbert]

Sorry, I don't wish to offend. It's just the name for your kind, where I'm from. Lalafell, yes. I remember.

[Ardbert would would remember and Elidibus knows. But one must build up to these things with carefully constructed tales.

As for not being 'a' The Warrior of Light, well... sorry to break this to you, Tataru. Fortunately for her poor head, there's no immediate reason to bring up even a layer of that particular onion. Let's hope if it comes out, it's gentle.

Elidibus lets himself grin at the sight of the lalafell's vigorous dismissal. It seems all is well enough and he's gained entry to discuss the matter of housing further. This does, of course, bring up the matter of the amaro. The Ascian turns to regard the patient bird, who perks up as the one she's been following turns attention to her. Ecstatic, even, when he reaches out a gloved hand and rubs her jaw.]

Yes, thank you. I think the shed will be fine, if it doesn't get any colder. Perhaps some water, also?


[He interjects just the right amount of fondness in his tone. Elidibus makes a mental note to periodically check on the amaro's condition. Perhaps Tataru's mortal issues with the cold has reminded him. He's still struggling to cope with the reality of his. Fortunately, there's plenty of fur and layers to help him forget. The tops of his ears are probably more than a little reddened though.]

[unsundered]

[It was a reunion so without ceremony that it was made almost mundane. For all that it was a nice house, it was still just a house, in the middle of a mortal city, just after some local holidays. There had been no dramatic buildup to this meeting, no waiting, no expectation whatsoever- only happenstance. Chance itself playing its games with them.

That neither of them jumped to acknowledge the other for who they were added to a certain surreality to it, parts played as though on automatic, defenses raised by habit. But there had been a reaction there; even half-blind as he is, Emet-Selch had been watching closely for anything that might give his compatriot away- and that twitch, that barest pause- it was exactly what he was after. It does nothing to dissipate the tension between them, even ratcheting it up a few notches more; a contrast, perhaps, to the snow that quietly, serenely falls around them. The kind of snow that feels as though it could fall forever, silencing the world entirely. A peaceful evening... if a cold one.

But it's a reaction so quick that Emet-Selch questions himself over it a moment later- that he might have been reading too much into a completely normal sort of startle because he was expecting something to give his companion away. It wasn't impossible for this man to be the original Ardbert. It wasn't as though Emet-Selch was familiar enough with the warrior in order to have any chance of picking out what was un-Ardbert-like behavior, or to try to catch him in some lie.

The voice, of course, was not Elidibus', but that didn't prove anything. If he was determined to maintain this charade, it was to be expected that he'd use his host's voice in place of his own. And his manner after that smallest give- it was pretty much exactly what Emet-Selch would expect from a stranger who was looking for a place to stay, a new arrival to this city, this world. Perfectly cordial, a trace puzzled, nothing out of the ordinary.

...But no, that still didn't feel right, that tell was too telling. Which- if he was deciding to proceed as though this were Elidibus- led to the question of why the man was keeping up this pretense. It wasn't as though the other Ascian should have any difficulty recognizing him in this body. A mutual seeking out of information, a caution natural, a confusion over seeing him here, alive?

A confusion that he naturally shared. Emet-Selch hadn't asked Irhya whether Elidibus had remembered anything at his death, or how the conclusion of that battle had gone, and he considered that it was possible that the other Ascian hadn't slid peacefully into that eternal night, hadn't reached the same understanding that he had (their time was past, their cause lost; no matter how it grieved him, there was no other truth). Was there resentment hiding behind those politely concerned eyes, an understandable wariness in the face of someone who had, by some definitions, betrayed both him and their cause? ...Or had he not yet been killed at all, the same as Lahabrea?

Concerning, to not know. But his manner settles into the slight disapproval of one who hadn't expected, nor wanted, strangers to appear on their doorstep (it's a manner that has the benefit of being true).]

A place to.... [Voice slow as he repeats it, Emet-Selch takes the opportunity to glance at the paper the man holds up, frowning at it, though it's clear that his attention isn't wholly there, even as he wonders how Elidibus had even gotten it. Had Mettaton offered their address to the Coven as a place for fresh, wayward Mirrorbound to stay? He knew the puca was sociable... it was always possible. And in any case, he needed to figure out the mystery of this person. There was no turning him away just yet.] No, you've found the right one, not that anyone had thought to inform me that I might be tasked with housing anyone more. But since you're already here--

[Taking a step inside, out of the doorway, he gestures to the interior of the house with a flourish of his good hand. The notice of his injuries, the deliberate way Elidibus' gaze had traced over them (even if the reaction itself was nothing strange, the natural response of someone noting the obvious but too polite to immediately call attention to it)- it doesn't escape him. But Emet-Selch does nothing to hide it, and nor does he seem at all self-conscious at the staring; his wounds were what they were. A visible warning to those who were accustomed to changing bodies if they became too troublesome; there was no escaping permanent damage here.

But Emet-Selch's gaze briefly slips to the amaro behind Elidibus, before sliding smoothly back to his guest.]

Your steed- is he capable of looking after himself for a time? There's no stable, but you might be able to find somewhere to tie him.

[seemstressed]

Of course. Just a moment then!

<sub>[Closing the door she hurries off to grab her coat and mittens, along with a bowl to fill with water, making sure it's at least warm so it won't freeze right away. Snapping on a levitation enchantment she has it float alongside her as she opens the door again, waddling her way outside now fully bundled. Hands free she gives the two of them a wave to follow her to the back of her property.

The shed is a wooden one with a workbench and a few gardening tools inside. Thankfully she'd cleaned it out earlier after Henry had left and so there was enough space for the bird to fit itself. There's a small bit of a struggle to wedge the doors open but she manages, pleased with herself when she does.]</sub>

There!

_{[She plucks the bowl from out of the air and sets it down, once the creature gets comfortable.]}

[notbert]

"And made into beast boots," Elidibus agrees. And from the looks of things, plenty of left over for collars, gloves and other trim. But the boots are what's important now, clearly, as they were officially touched. And if there's to be re-enactments later, there may be a phase. Maybe even a dream of becoming a great axe wielding harpy warrior (with beast boots, however impractical). Clearly Ascians once again are proving terrible influences.

Matters move on. Signs must be found again, potential visitations to a harpy's home might be a priority. It's not as if 'Red' has been forgotten by any means. He's certainly on Elidibus' mind, but... patience. Plenty of groundwork has just been laid to reach the dragon's lair.

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to stop by for a little," he concedes. "Then we can find those signs before heading back home." Why put off for tomorrow what can be done today? Looking between Ann, Riona and Samuel, Elidibus offers a slightly lopsided smile. "And perhaps I can ask your aid in approaching your dragon friend, to find out where he would like his warnings placed."

Because clearly, it would be better diplomacy to have someone familiar introduce him, no?

[notbert]

[To say the Emissary is startled when Tataru reappears with a bowl of water levitating, happy as you please, would be an understatement. Actually, honestly startled, to see this mortal fragment just guiding a bowl of water along. His brief observations of the Scion's secretary had shown no sign of being particularly adept at such parlor tricks. Yet here they were and he could discern nothing, the way he was used to.

Somewhat stunned, Elidibus follows and of course so does the amaro. It's a tribute to his jumbled thoughts that Tataru is left to struggle with the shed doors alone, but at least the achievement seems to please her. Finally snapping out of it when the amaro nudges him forward, the Ascian leads the way into the shed, turning to remove the halter once the creature is settled. She is happy to accept the water once the lalafell guides the bowl down, dipping her beak-mouth down and taking a large gulp. There might not be straw in the quiet shed, but it's shelter from the wind and snow, and should be fine. Those feathers look nice and downy.]

Show me how you did that.

[Elidibus is far more interested in Tataru's 'parlor trick'. He remembers himself suddenly.]

Please.

[notbert]

[Elidibus had no reason to immediately break the facade. Too many eons of experience that it wasn't simply second nature even in the face of startling truths. He expects as much from Emet-Selch. Who should be dead.

But is currently before him.

It's not as if some manner of this phenomenon wasn't explained by the Coven to newly arrived Mirrorbound. It's probably been documented countless times. So you could say rightly that Elidibus did know to expect the possibility. But literally the first day? If he wasn't fully versed in the art himself, the Emissary might even think someone had specifically managed to manipulate him along this series of events.

On second thought, if someone has, they will be made to be very, very sorry they chose Elidibus of all people as their pawn.

Yes, a place. Maybe it was a matter of volunteerism. Maybe it was a quiet circulation of effort to make sure the Mirrorbound's allotted space didn't fill up because everyone sought a house of their own. It could be an honest clerical error. Whatever the reason, events have played out and Elidibus only allows the lift of an eyebrow as Emet-Selch grumbles about his privacy invaded.

It's not that there is humor taken from the circumstances, but the Emissary does feel a very small stir of relief to hear something so patently like his fellow Ascian to say.

On cue, Elidibus turns to assess the amaro's state, then look to one side and another before finding there is indeed a place to lash the lead. A particular ornamentation of the mansion's exterior creates something of an awning, allowing the steed to have a basic protection from the elements.]

Stay here. I won't be long.

[Would Elidibus deign to speak to a beast? Yes, yes he would, especially when it would gain him something or playing the part. At least concerning the former, the amaro appears to accept the temporary abandonment, letting out a happy sound. Honestly, probably responding to the fact that she was being talked to by the man she decided to follow.

He won't be long? There are many, many possibilities for that simple phrasing. That he wasn't talking to the amaro is very likely, especially if one were to consider this is Elidibus. At the widest stretch, one might think that 'Ardbert' is aware of the tension in the air. That entering the house is going to be filled with a more complex encounter than a simple lodging interview. There being no stable here certainly makes this an unlikely choice for the needs of the man he's pretending to be.

There had been that moment where Emet-Selch really could have just changed his mind and closed the door. Not dealt with this. But that's not going to happen at this point, is it? Elidibus strides inside, past his fellow Ascian with unfeigned confidence in his demeanor. A point is made to enter the mansion's interior fully before taking pause and letting his gaze roam freely. Evaluating.

What type of place has Emet-Selch made for himself?]

II

[omnicrafter]

[Emet isn't the only one to get a visit. But to say Irhya is shocked to see him is an understatement. Following the recognition as she opens the door comes a flicker of confusion, though, considering... everything.]

Ard... bert?

[It is, isn't it? She tilts her head, looking him up and down. The house admittedly feels empty these days when Emet is not in it with her, which is fifty percent of the time, so maybe...]

I'm not sure who put me on the list, or if they meant it in jest or not, but... I guess they weren't wrong, either way. I've got more space than I know what to do with now. [A sigh.] Are you... I mean... that isn't Seto, is it?

[Her eyes fix on the amaro briefly, near-fully expecting it to answer for itself.]

Thought at any rate... circumstances be damned, I'm glad to see you, even if you probably don't recognize me at all.

[fuelingfire]

For harpies it'll simply have to be OTHER bits of armament besides boots! Nice ankle wraps perhaps or claw sheaths or something! If Elidibus is inspiring kids to work on becoming more than they should be setting their mind to ... well it'll hardly be the first time.

Or the last.

Sure, going with the harpies means heading in entirely the wrong direction, but surely things will work out just fine! It doesn't seem like that ominous shape is about to go anywhere any time soon. "I know where a few are. The others may have been picked up." Riona looks thoughtful for a moment, but as tthings have clearly been decided, she turns for home - this time on foot. Poor Elidibus doesn't have wings, after all, and he's waved along. "I'm sure we can politely ask, we'll just all have to mind our manners. It won't be much of an intrusion then."

Or so she hopes. "We don't get a lot of visitors out this way that don't already have kin in the area, we certainly don't," Samuel says brightly, bouncing right after his theoretical wife. "You Mirrorbound usually stay on the other side of the river. Not that we mind at all, not at all, a little change doesn't hurt." By the second and third floor landing perches at windows big enough to be doors, figuring out which home is theirs is in fact probably very easy.

Ann pauses, toy clutched to her chest, for a moment looking intensely thoughtful. "Should signs be done first? And then a snack? Coming aaalll the way back out is such a loooong walk."

It isn't. At least not to adult feet, or people used to walking.

[unsundered]

[The lack of a stable would make this not the first choice for anyone with a rideable bird of their own, but the awning towards the side of the building would at least allow the amaro some shelter from the elements, and the trees of the yard tall enough to provide additional protection. It wouldn't take the place of anywhere purpose-built for the task, but she would be out of much of the wind and direct flurrying. And a space close to the house would also be a trace bit warmer than anywhere else.

But that the man was keeping up the pretense of considering this place at all, even if it wouldn't do as any long-term prospect for someone who cared a whit for their steed- it spoke further of this being Elidibus, of this being instead a mutual assessment, a working out of what was going on. It certainly was not how Emet-Selch had envisioned spending his time this evening, but what was his life but a series of unpleasant, uncomfortable circumstances?

For all that neither of them wore a mask, an equivalent defense was just as surely in place.

Elidibus' reply- a statement that could apply equally to Emet-Selch as to the amaro- gets a flicker of pale amusement. And while there was the briefest of considerings that he might simply close the door and put off this whole affair... it was brief, and quickly dismissed. From the moment he'd opened the door and they'd caught the other's eye, had shown the slightest hint of recognition- there had been no other course than this. It's only after the other Ascian passes him on his way inside that Emet-Selch shuts off the outside world.]

I hope this doesn't foretell of a procession of visitors beating down my door in search of shelter.

[As though a single person politely knocking at all qualified as any of that. Slowly catching up with Elidibus in the living room, he gives a languid shrug, as though to indicate their environs, the freedom he was giving him.]

Make yourself at home, if you care to. Or would you rather a tour?

[While the foyer itself had little illumination, lit up only by what could reach it from elsewhere, the main room itself is more appropriately visible as they step into it. There's space for a large couch which... isn't there, but certainly looks as though something should be there (it had caught on fire and broken, its mangled ruin disposed of, but it had yet to be replaced; there's no sign of any other damage now, at least, only an empty space). There's a smaller sofa though, and several chairs and dark-wooded tables. The overall color scheme is one that favors blacks and greys- though with accents throughout of vivid reds, even magentas (there's any number of pillows in that color, anyway, and one or two tidily folded-away blankets, concessions to those who can feel temperature and care about things like 'staying warm'). It's a surprisingly 'modern' style, as much as one can be achieved in Aefenglom.

It was also nothing that the Ascian had been involved in choosing, the house having already been set up to favor his Bonded's style when he moved in. That said, Emet-Selch found the decor tolerable, acceptable. In the same way as he still had little interest in personal possessions, he took little interest in decorating. Even if he'd grown to consider this house, at least, as something like a home, it would never be Amaurot or anything like it. There was no point in pretending otherwise.

But it was a clean, thoughtfully organized sort of room, put together by someone who favored nice and expensive things, and who cared about aesthetics. Emet-Selch mostly just lived there.

There was a kitchen tucked away off to the side, not immediately in view. And though reasonably equipped (by archaic, if magically-supplemented standards), there's little sign of it being regularly in use. Neither of the house's occupants appear to cook very often at all. There was also a study on this floor, bearing a large, fine desk, and quite a few bookcases containing quite a few books, mostly also tidied away.

There's a fire going in the fireplace, recently tended to and providing the main source of heating, at least on this floor. A large, old house like this could get chilly, this time of year. A staircase is also nearby, suggesting that there is both a cellar, as well as an upstairs (There were actually two floors above the main one, each primarily consisting of bedrooms. While the size of each floor wasn't particularly large, the house had levels.).

Throughout, Emet-Selch keeps a faux-casual eye on his visitor, treating this as though it were all a vague, but not intolerable nuisance.]

Re: II

[notbert]

[A miqo'te? Elidibus resists the urge to glance at the world around him to be absolutely certain this is not one of the Shards of his shattered star and he's just been hallucinating this awful blind-deafness state for the last half day. It engenders a look of recognition, sure. But when she calls him Ardbert, the man takes a half step back. The Ascian is suddenly very alert to the situation. The problem is he doesn't recognize her.

The amaro is most certainly not going to answer with more than a gentle 'gwee' chirp. Maybe a flutter of folded wings as she recognizes she's being talked about. That is not Seto of most recent memory; far too small. Even if it were Seto, it would almost certainly be a time long before Ardbert's faithful companion had gained sentience. After a split's second thought, 'Ardbert' even confirms this. Or rather, the negative.]

No, this amaro happened to be nearby when I was pulled through.

[Just as before. He has the voice, the cheerful manner, the fact that a certain parallel someone had already tried to trick him using the name Seto before. This leads to a 'puzzled' frown and a brief narrowing of eyes even while he pleasantly continues.]

I'm sorry. I would think to have remembered meeting a charming Mystel such as yourself before. [He pauses to 'consider'.] Ah, or would you be a Miqo'te? Anyway... have we met?

[Clearly he is just being polite and not at all attempting to narrow down which Shard this young lady may be from and how much of a threat her knowledge could be to his position. The now very story-driven list of addresses clutched in his hand has been half proffered, since it does seem verification is the watchword from a string of confused home-owners. Irhya might even notice a certain familiarity to one or more of the addresses.

...Don't suppose the fae in this world are known for trickery AND divination, are they?]

[notbert]

Look, sometimes that was good for the health of the world to help, if you'll forgive a metaphor, fledglings to take flight. Nothing wrong with that. Everything wrong with making sure the world stays healthy enough to survive Rejoining, don't worry about it. Sometimes, well. Yes. It was very much to cause a Rejoining.

I'm sure it'll be fiiiiine here.

Yeah that shape isn't going anywhere. HE KNOWS WHERE YOU LIVE. Elidibus is willingly herded down the bank toward the harpies' home. "We can prioritize the ones we find to where they're most needed." The Ascian doesn't have to say anything about how obvious 'around the dragon' would be the best place to start, right?

And so he doesn't. The 'warrior' appears content to study the area around them and take in the sight of the... ahem, birdhouse as they approach. "So you're natives?" By context it's apparent, but it's a polite thing to ask nonetheless. "Forgive me if this is rude, but.... do you experience the changes they told me the Mirrorbound do? Or are you born this way?" It might well be a little 'ignorantly tactless' but it has its purpose. Sure it's been inferred by context that the robed figure is Mirrorbound. But if native monsters DON'T go through those changes, then it's simply another piece of the puzzle which is the dragon.

Little Ann is given a wide grin. There's plenty of chance to duck away, but a gloved hand can't seem (by design) to resist wanting to ruffle the child's head...hair...feathers? He'll be mindful if it's feathers, certainly. "Lunch first, for energy. Then we'll be ready for an adventure." One eye closes in a wink. "Young ladies who try hard might certainly get a ride back home if it proves a bit too far."

Look. He's not saying that offering to give a child who can get a tail-wave from a dragon a ride on a strong shoulder is the same as taking a hostage against atta-- Yes, wait I'm sure it's just a shoulder ride offer.

Really don't worry about it.

[fuelingfire]

Let's face it. It's a birdhouse. It's a house.. with many new options to get into it, for birds. What else could it possibly be?

"It's not rude at all, not at all." And not a taboo subject, it seems! "We're born as our species. I can't imagine how odd it must be to just become something else over time!" But that does seem to be what the mirrorbound do, even if Samuel can't quite fathom it. "There's never any question what we'll grow up as, no question at all. I haven't spotted anything that doesn't look human on you yet, but don't worry, I'm sure you'll get some feathers or fur or scales soon!" This is supposed to be reassuring, as if Elidibus might be yearning to grow fur or fangs or feathers and simply hasn't had the opportunity yet.

Of course, the harpy might be a bit biased. Who WOULDN'T want to fly? Or prowl the night as a wolf, or experience the pride of spinning a first web?

The path to their home is neat cobblestone, plenty of length to kick off any lingering mud or sand from the shore of the river and not track anything inside even for big clunky warrior boots. Ann does NOT duck away, but she does giggle when her hair .. or feathers, it's sort of hard to tell - get ruffled up. She's doing her best to keep pace! But she's used to flying, ever since she'd fledged to begin with. "Piggyback rides! Okay!" She's going to hold him to that and there is NO escaping it!

Riona opens the ground floor door, which looks suspiciously ordinary, and is obviously unlocked. "Please make yourself at home, Ardbert. Would you like a drink while you wait? We've several teas, a bit of milk.." Milk, for birds? Apparently! "A little wine, but you're welcome to it." The interior of the home is definitely sized for smaller, lighter beings, but Elidibus shouldn't have any trouble - it could be most homes in ANY world, save that the chairs are all comfortable stool-like cushions instead of with rigid backs. It's also rather much warmer than outside.

[notbert]

[There are definitely better choices out there for a man and his bird. To say the Emissary doesn't care about the welfare of the amaro is far from the truth. He may see the advantage and disadvantage of the beast's presence as little more than a prop or tool, depending on the circumstances. But with that comes obligation to maintain its existence. But this is nothing new, as Elidibus has cared for pets before. That young lad from the Thirteenth, for example. Whether or not there remains doubt about the man's identity, both observations make it abundantly clear that their conversation is not going to be about whether he'll make a good roommate.

One may speak of their life as a series of unpleasant circumstance. But they're not the only ones suffering. It might be telling when 'Ardbert' drifts closer to the warmth of the fire while surveying the interior of the mansion. There wouldn't be that long of a wait before the sturdy leather and fur gear- thankfully, Ardbert's body came with a full winterization package- begins to steam with the melt of snow and its subsequent vaporization under the heat. How long had he been wandering the streets? ...At least, the amaro had seemed well off enough, so it couldn't have been completely dangerous.

Elidibus is going to judge your home aesthetic, Emet-Selch. And yes, while it would be more thorough of him to ask for the full tour, he does not. It's not needed, after all, for the available view makes many things abundantly clear. Emet-Selch does not hide his home in an upstairs closet or a basement corner. He is very, very obvious in showing the trappings of home. Even when he hid at the bottom of an ocean trench you could still see the lightshow for miles around. Honestly if the Tempest hadn't been so rough, probably could have just rowed out a bit from shore and stuck a head underwater and not missed it. So it is judged. Or rather, the complete lack of Emet-Selch admist the red and magenta on grey and black. It inspires comment. Especially regarding that 'my door' bit.]

You want me to make myself at home? [The question seems couched in laughter.]

I was actually going to ask if you really lived here, or I caught you in the act of robbing the place.

[He might as well have said names or dropped his host body's voice by that point. But there really needs to be one more thing said. Reluctantly, because it does admit that he's.... at least as blind and deaf as Emet-Selch is. Tragically mortal blue eyes turn and fix the other Ascian with a serious look.]

Can you assure we're completely alone?

[It seems that, if it's true they can speak openly, then it's time for this lighthearted 'game' to end.]