Well. The small drow wrinkled his nose as the beast's head messily and loudly came away from the body, and pulled Reinhardt's giant cloak tighter around himself as he watched the human work.
Barbarians. All of them.
"We will not be indebted to a human." The words weren't harsh, but Kimmuriel's tone tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. Arrogance, maybe, even in the face of this monster of a human, but he was reasonably certain that if the man had wished him harm, he would still be back in that damned house. In pieces.
It was a thought that had Kimmuriel look up at the man again, red eyes studying his face, his movements as he prepared the beast for the fire. Weakened as the psionicist was, he couldn't completely hide the cold pressure of his presence pushing into Reinhardt's mind, nor could he delve deeper than what was there on the surface. But there was nothing there to see. No sense of a threat. No hint of deceit.
That would have to be enough for now, and Kimmuriel swayed a little where he sat, shook his head as he pulled back from the man's mind.
"I can send you back where they summoned you from," he finally continued after a long moment, once again composed and confident in his voice. "When we return to Bregan D'aerthe, and I can rest properly. But until then, you could explain why you really aided me."
Because that was the biggest question right now, and Reinhardt's earlier answer hardly seemed believable. Allying with a drow for their strength was one thing. Rescuing one as weak as Kimmuriel had been, on the other hand, was a useless cause, no matter how one looked at it.
Hey, dinner is dinner, making it is a messy process.
Can't make an omelette without ripping the heads off a few dead animals. Or something.
"Then you are not!" Cheerful and upbeat, that comment, setting about cleaning and gutting the beast with careful efficiency.
"There, see? It is that easy. You are not in my debt."
No, nothing to be found in Reinhardt's head that would suggest any ill will. The only thing really going on in there was a list of parts that he could recognize in the carcass he was butchering that he knew were edible, wistful thoughts of stout, and a quiet reminder to take a bath when he could manage it.
Also home, thinking a bit about home here, since, you know, he'd like to be there.
The crusader looked up as Kimmuriel swayed, apparently oblivious to the cold pressure that had begun to intrude into his head. A migraine, he'd written it off as, or at least the beginnings of one. It'd been a trying day after all.
"Are you okay?" Don't mind him just ignoring that question for a moment, watching the little elf carefully for a moment. "If you feel lightheaded, you can sleep again. I will wake you when dinner is finished."
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hammernhasslehoff) wrote2017-11-05 06:14 pm
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Barbarians. All of them.
"We will not be indebted to a human." The words weren't harsh, but Kimmuriel's tone tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. Arrogance, maybe, even in the face of this monster of a human, but he was reasonably certain that if the man had wished him harm, he would still be back in that damned house. In pieces.
It was a thought that had Kimmuriel look up at the man again, red eyes studying his face, his movements as he prepared the beast for the fire. Weakened as the psionicist was, he couldn't completely hide the cold pressure of his presence pushing into Reinhardt's mind, nor could he delve deeper than what was there on the surface. But there was nothing there to see. No sense of a threat. No hint of deceit.
That would have to be enough for now, and Kimmuriel swayed a little where he sat, shook his head as he pulled back from the man's mind.
"I can send you back where they summoned you from," he finally continued after a long moment, once again composed and confident in his voice. "When we return to Bregan D'aerthe, and I can rest properly. But until then, you could explain why you really aided me."
Because that was the biggest question right now, and Reinhardt's earlier answer hardly seemed believable. Allying with a drow for their strength was one thing. Rescuing one as weak as Kimmuriel had been, on the other hand, was a useless cause, no matter how one looked at it.
no subject
Can't make an omelette without ripping the heads off a few dead animals. Or something.
"Then you are not!" Cheerful and upbeat, that comment, setting about cleaning and gutting the beast with careful efficiency.
"There, see? It is that easy. You are not in my debt."
No, nothing to be found in Reinhardt's head that would suggest any ill will. The only thing really going on in there was a list of parts that he could recognize in the carcass he was butchering that he knew were edible, wistful thoughts of stout, and a quiet reminder to take a bath when he could manage it.
Also home, thinking a bit about home here, since, you know, he'd like to be there.
The crusader looked up as Kimmuriel swayed, apparently oblivious to the cold pressure that had begun to intrude into his head. A migraine, he'd written it off as, or at least the beginnings of one. It'd been a trying day after all.
"Are you okay?" Don't mind him just ignoring that question for a moment, watching the little elf carefully for a moment. "If you feel lightheaded, you can sleep again. I will wake you when dinner is finished."