Rhea'li successfully refrains from rolling his eyes at Emet-Selch. Yes, yes, he knows Emet-Selch is an all powerful sorceror of eld.
But when Azem lets down the spirit with his face, the spirit lets out a cry. Ah, yes. The anxious, child-like spirit who had trapped him here in the first place. Placing a hand on the spirit's shoulder, he leans down to look up into the spirit's eyes, which are watering at the thought of them leaving (he thinks.)
"You and I are bonded. You can feel it, aye?" Rhea'li gently bumps his forehead against the spirit's, the spirit sniffing. "No matter how far I go, I am always with you." He draws out a crystal -- not Azem's, but his summoner's stone -- and places it in the spirit's hand. "Keep this safe for me, will you? I will be back for it."
He waits for the spirit's silent nod, greatly reassured when the spirit clutches the crystal close to his chest.
Turning to Azem -- their appearance has him pausing for a brief moment, thinking vivdly of the grotesque transformations from the First -- he nods, stepping forward for Azem to give him a ride. "Aye, let us strike at the heart of this constructed memory."
For what else could Bahamut represent than the terrifying ordeal of an all encompassing change that one is powerless to stop, leaving one so desperately alone?
no subject
But when Azem lets down the spirit with his face, the spirit lets out a cry. Ah, yes. The anxious, child-like spirit who had trapped him here in the first place. Placing a hand on the spirit's shoulder, he leans down to look up into the spirit's eyes, which are watering at the thought of them leaving (he thinks.)
"You and I are bonded. You can feel it, aye?" Rhea'li gently bumps his forehead against the spirit's, the spirit sniffing. "No matter how far I go, I am always with you." He draws out a crystal -- not Azem's, but his summoner's stone -- and places it in the spirit's hand. "Keep this safe for me, will you? I will be back for it."
He waits for the spirit's silent nod, greatly reassured when the spirit clutches the crystal close to his chest.
Turning to Azem -- their appearance has him pausing for a brief moment, thinking vivdly of the grotesque transformations from the First -- he nods, stepping forward for Azem to give him a ride. "Aye, let us strike at the heart of this constructed memory."
For what else could Bahamut represent than the terrifying ordeal of an all encompassing change that one is powerless to stop, leaving one so desperately alone?