Lemm slides his hand along their claw slightly, acclimatising. Unfamiliar, and at odds again with the memory of small paws.
He follows his hand along theirs, to their wrist. He stops, steps away, and moves along beside the rest of them for a quick once-over. (Like he had, once, when they'd appeared on his counter and he'd been anxious then, as he is now. The appraising look is back.)
What is he even looking for? Since when has the Knight ever looked injured? What does he expect to find on the Lord of Shades? And they're - they died, only they didn't, exactly, and this is just what happens after. Technically he's talking to their ghost. Only that's not exactly true either.
This line of thought unsettles him. The point, he decides very suddenly and very firmly, is that he can't see anything wrong with them. Tendrils everywhere, inky darkness, four arms that bend like a bug's do, and no sign that he can tell that there is anything left of what put them in this state. They seem fine. That'll have to do.
Appraisal over, Lemm returns to their hand rather quicker than he left. He clears his throat.
"Let's have that up," he instructs, and as an example: he lifts his own hand flat, and then tilts it up onto its side. Lemm pats their claw again expectantly.
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Lemm slides his hand along their claw slightly, acclimatising. Unfamiliar, and at odds again with the memory of small paws.
He follows his hand along theirs, to their wrist. He stops, steps away, and moves along beside the rest of them for a quick once-over. (Like he had, once, when they'd appeared on his counter and he'd been anxious then, as he is now. The appraising look is back.)
What is he even looking for? Since when has the Knight ever looked injured? What does he expect to find on the Lord of Shades? And they're - they died, only they didn't, exactly, and this is just what happens after. Technically he's talking to their ghost. Only that's not exactly true either.
This line of thought unsettles him. The point, he decides very suddenly and very firmly, is that he can't see anything wrong with them. Tendrils everywhere, inky darkness, four arms that bend like a bug's do, and no sign that he can tell that there is anything left of what put them in this state. They seem fine. That'll have to do.
Appraisal over, Lemm returns to their hand rather quicker than he left. He clears his throat.
"Let's have that up," he instructs, and as an example: he lifts his own hand flat, and then tilts it up onto its side. Lemm pats their claw again expectantly.