The Dark Lord tilted his chin upright at her, having observed her every action in silence from behind his immaculate golden mask as she lead him ever onward through the blistering winds of Coerthas. Despite the heavy furs he hid himself within, the shrill cries of the air ripped through him to the very bone. Never once had he deigned to aid her when she engaged a stray draconian creature, nor had he cause to unsheathe his blade; This was her venture - and hers alone. The crystal along his neck blazed brilliantly with the sheer gravity of such negative emotions as the two warriors gave off. The ferocity that was their combined hatred reflected in a single red hue, unto itself as if a fire.Â
He expressed his discontent but once, stepping atop the aevis' Â severed head as he passed over it in her wake, leaving a fading trail of blood as he trudged onward along the line drawn in the snow by the intimidating blade that looked very nearly as large as the woman wielding it. This moment filled him with a silent satisfaction as he observed the glow of the crystal, still exerting it's dark influence over her from afar. He had no idea what it was she experienced, nor could he interpret or control the whimsies of this shard hanging from his neck - whatever it was, however, held his attention and filled him with a sense of anticipation. There were no words offered or exchanged, even as he heard her own clearly.Â
He crossed the threshold of the courtyard with her, armor clinking at intervals beneath the coeurl furs, his feather and bead fetishes swaying about on their own accord with the breeze still whispering along the air. He continued to demonstrate an indifference to her actions all the way up to their emerging in an open plaza, snow piled over the ancient and long abandoned stone floor. Then it happened - she stood still as an oak, stalwart and focused on something unseen; She cried out, before raising her blade to rip through the air as if to rend an imaginary opponent. He could not fathom what had just transpired, nor could he imagine it had to do with the soulstone he'd procured from an Ishgardian Dark Knight in the wake of their encounter - No, this too was likely the work of the crystal.
He moved to tenderly set a plated hand atop her shoulder. "Lady Delacroix?" He asked in a soft and convincingly concerned manner, tilting his head to convey it further beside the implied question. This seemed the tipping point to his eye, he need but be careful in how to maneuver her along her designs... Though if those that hunted him were to be trusted in habit, it would not take more than a convenient interruption.
He expressed his discontent but once, stepping atop the aevis' Â severed head as he passed over it in her wake, leaving a fading trail of blood as he trudged onward along the line drawn in the snow by the intimidating blade that looked very nearly as large as the woman wielding it. This moment filled him with a silent satisfaction as he observed the glow of the crystal, still exerting it's dark influence over her from afar. He had no idea what it was she experienced, nor could he interpret or control the whimsies of this shard hanging from his neck - whatever it was, however, held his attention and filled him with a sense of anticipation. There were no words offered or exchanged, even as he heard her own clearly.Â
He crossed the threshold of the courtyard with her, armor clinking at intervals beneath the coeurl furs, his feather and bead fetishes swaying about on their own accord with the breeze still whispering along the air. He continued to demonstrate an indifference to her actions all the way up to their emerging in an open plaza, snow piled over the ancient and long abandoned stone floor. Then it happened - she stood still as an oak, stalwart and focused on something unseen; She cried out, before raising her blade to rip through the air as if to rend an imaginary opponent. He could not fathom what had just transpired, nor could he imagine it had to do with the soulstone he'd procured from an Ishgardian Dark Knight in the wake of their encounter - No, this too was likely the work of the crystal.
He moved to tenderly set a plated hand atop her shoulder. "Lady Delacroix?" He asked in a soft and convincingly concerned manner, tilting his head to convey it further beside the implied question. This seemed the tipping point to his eye, he need but be careful in how to maneuver her along her designs... Though if those that hunted him were to be trusted in habit, it would not take more than a convenient interruption.