[ What is dangerous to some might be simply a change of scenery for another; he lingered within most of those places, as it were. Creeping through the stretch of hallways, or the sewers where a stench of whale oil, and fish and rat clung to the air with a venomous hold. All that mattered was to reach a mark, to swipe information in order to further his goal. To kill, or to condemn the target to a merciless fate as a twisted form of mercy. (He lived with his pain, and they too should pay; death was the mercy and perhaps Corvo simply wasn't that kind).
This was, perhaps, a questionable choice of action, for he knew nothing of the shadow that followed him (just that it did); but a lot of Corvo's choices could be put to question by some more prone to self-reflection as a preferred past-time.
Instead, it was a challenge for both. To him, a test of awareness, of how he adapts to a world so unset from his own, and to the others brought into it. And all for nothing, he was kind of intrigued. Who would win?
Loathe as he would to admit it, without the Outsider's power, trying to pay close attention to Garrett would have been a much more tedious challenge. He couldn't even hear the thief's footfalls. Because where Garrett moves as the master of the art, Corvo's bearing is of a fighter, still, good as he may be at disappearing.
Awareness bristles when the glass shatters in distraction. But even if it takes a few seconds, he knows full well what it was; he's done things like that himself, when a particularly lazy guard wouldn't move from his post for too long.
Red seeps into his world again and out of the very corner of his eye does he catch that aura of a living thing and the Mark glows again, branded sharp lines burning brighter against the creeping shadows and he moves, puts a short distance between them in nothing but a blink, a whisper of blue before pivoting to face him. ]
Almost. [ said as more of an exhale, really; a statement of fact rather than taunt, curious to see what the next move would be. And who it would belong to. ]
oh gosh yes this is an interaction i've always wanted tbh
This was, perhaps, a questionable choice of action, for he knew nothing of the shadow that followed him (just that it did); but a lot of Corvo's choices could be put to question by some more prone to self-reflection as a preferred past-time.
Instead, it was a challenge for both. To him, a test of awareness, of how he adapts to a world so unset from his own, and to the others brought into it. And all for nothing, he was kind of intrigued. Who would win?
Loathe as he would to admit it, without the Outsider's power, trying to pay close attention to Garrett would have been a much more tedious challenge. He couldn't even hear the thief's footfalls. Because where Garrett moves as the master of the art, Corvo's bearing is of a fighter, still, good as he may be at disappearing.
Awareness bristles when the glass shatters in distraction. But even if it takes a few seconds, he knows full well what it was; he's done things like that himself, when a particularly lazy guard wouldn't move from his post for too long.
Red seeps into his world again and out of the very corner of his eye does he catch that aura of a living thing and the Mark glows again, branded sharp lines burning brighter against the creeping shadows and he moves, puts a short distance between them in nothing but a blink, a whisper of blue before pivoting to face him. ]
Almost. [ said as more of an exhale, really; a statement of fact rather than taunt, curious to see what the next move would be. And who it would belong to. ]