[ Was that cheating as well? Whenever time stopped - whenever he stopped it - it certainly felt like it; like crawling on the edge of reality, or tearing at its very foundation because he could.
But this power was an end to a means. He wouldn't be denying its benefit, as much as he would've liked to, as much as that ambiguous whale god got under his skin, as unsettling as the cold, wet chill of the sea before it swallows you whole.
Corvo watches the other emerge from that habitual cover of darkness and his own look goes to that eye again as he holds the offered trinket steady. Until that eye flares and there's that second's wince that's making Corvo's fingers gently curl around the charm again as it sings its dull whalesong.
Whatever magic this man had, it wasn't the Outsider's; in fact, they seemed to nearly be clashing.
But he knows better than to ask. ] Ah. I see.
[ His tone level, pushes at the slightest brink of unsteady diplomacy (too out of practice, it seems) and as light as it could be for a man like him; infinitely troubled and prone to seriousness.
For propriety's sake, he pretends that the offer goes unaccepted solely because he had cheapened it to an easy gift instead of a prize for a thief, just as the other waves it away. Had he hit a nerve? Surprisingly, it wasn't his intention.
Though it could be said Corvo wasn't at all too good at reading people past the very blatant; strategy, catching a situation about to go awry, simply knowing that something was wrong, sure. That was habitual, an intrinsic reflex from being (and failing as) Lord Protector. But this was also the same man who didn't even catch the betrayal of his so-called allies until he drank their damned poison. Until Samuel had put him on that boat, and until it all came crashing down again. Was he too blinded by how successful each mission had gone? By Emily's safe return? His was an odd balance of perceptive and ignorant.
Though in hindsight, perhaps his pride too would have been hit, were their positions reversed. Nonetheless, there's a small nod, a squint of weary eyes. As curt as his words may sound, he means it well enough. ] Apologies.
[ For ending the game? Or for the supernatural reactions? ]
s a m e
But this power was an end to a means. He wouldn't be denying its benefit, as much as he would've liked to, as much as that ambiguous whale god got under his skin, as unsettling as the cold, wet chill of the sea before it swallows you whole.
Corvo watches the other emerge from that habitual cover of darkness and his own look goes to that eye again as he holds the offered trinket steady. Until that eye flares and there's that second's wince that's making Corvo's fingers gently curl around the charm again as it sings its dull whalesong.
Whatever magic this man had, it wasn't the Outsider's; in fact, they seemed to nearly be clashing.
But he knows better than to ask. ] Ah. I see.
[ His tone level, pushes at the slightest brink of unsteady diplomacy (too out of practice, it seems) and as light as it could be for a man like him; infinitely troubled and prone to seriousness.
For propriety's sake, he pretends that the offer goes unaccepted solely because he had cheapened it to an easy gift instead of a prize for a thief, just as the other waves it away. Had he hit a nerve? Surprisingly, it wasn't his intention.
Though it could be said Corvo wasn't at all too good at reading people past the very blatant; strategy, catching a situation about to go awry, simply knowing that something was wrong, sure. That was habitual, an intrinsic reflex from being (and failing as) Lord Protector. But this was also the same man who didn't even catch the betrayal of his so-called allies until he drank their damned poison. Until Samuel had put him on that boat, and until it all came crashing down again. Was he too blinded by how successful each mission had gone? By Emily's safe return? His was an odd balance of perceptive and ignorant.
Though in hindsight, perhaps his pride too would have been hit, were their positions reversed. Nonetheless, there's a small nod, a squint of weary eyes. As curt as his words may sound, he means it well enough. ] Apologies.
[ For ending the game? Or for the supernatural reactions? ]