Is he trying to protect the Tyrant's body? Did he know the Tyrant was a body long before they began? Would he care?
He shouldn't care, the Siblings hiss. The Lord of Shades sways their head in place. He seems not to care, the Knight reassures, clenching their claws, feeling parts of the body give. Lemm would care only to glean history from the Tyrant.
He threw a journal at them, a fact they should find insulting and simply linger over as mystifying. They are huge. The journal was not. It wouldn't have killed a single tiny Shade. He has no desire to kill them, he's smarter than that, he hasn't tried before. He hasn't yet ran. He's communicating. They should give that attention.
They suppose he's speaking truth. They can muster little regret in ruining ruins. This is ugly history. It's less history than their own bodies at the bottom of Hallownest. The Tyrant and his scholars and warrior-guards were active enough to cut through, not so long ago.
The Lord of Shades rises through the air as something might swim, halting as their head crests the mouth of the pit, face-to-face with Lemm. Their narrow eight eyes stare, haloed by dozens and dozens of tinier round ones that wish to scrutinize him themselves.
no subject
He shouldn't care, the Siblings hiss. The Lord of Shades sways their head in place. He seems not to care, the Knight reassures, clenching their claws, feeling parts of the body give. Lemm would care only to glean history from the Tyrant.
He threw a journal at them, a fact they should find insulting and simply linger over as mystifying. They are huge. The journal was not. It wouldn't have killed a single tiny Shade. He has no desire to kill them, he's smarter than that, he hasn't tried before. He hasn't yet ran. He's communicating. They should give that attention.
They suppose he's speaking truth. They can muster little regret in ruining ruins. This is ugly history. It's less history than their own bodies at the bottom of Hallownest. The Tyrant and his scholars and warrior-guards were active enough to cut through, not so long ago.
The Lord of Shades rises through the air as something might swim, halting as their head crests the mouth of the pit, face-to-face with Lemm. Their narrow eight eyes stare, haloed by dozens and dozens of tinier round ones that wish to scrutinize him themselves.