[There's a moment of stillness to Eridanus at Slade's words, where he takes in the man's features, once sharp but weathered with age and no doubt the wisdom that came with it. There is a familiarity to the way his flesh wrinkles and creases around words and emotions, as if almost gazing into a mirror. Dull eyes that have seen things better left unsaid, and roughened hands that could tell more tales than words could ever express. Eridanus tips his brandy to his lips, relishing the acrid taste of the liquor as it coats his tongue and throat, a suitable replacement for the venom he could have unleashed upon the monster at his side.
He is fully aware that not everyone will walk in his shoes, understand his reasons, nor justify his desires. But the idea that their differences would make Slade even a fraction of a better person is a laughable one at best. Even Eridanus knew there are times when stubbornness in refusal of fate was foolhardy, and in the end, humans would be a food source for all monsterkind, whether they liked it or not.]
I don't meet with strangers off of the network often, not unless they have something I want. [Eridanus corrects him, because it is a very important distinction that needs to be outlinedโthat he is cautious too, and that should anything happen to him, others would know.] Considering there are monsters more powerful than I am, it would be foolish to meet with just anyone. That is how you get yourself killed if there's even a hint of betrayal in the air.
[Gaurded is a word that could describe Eridanus, but it's not without merit. The way his shoulders remain slightly stiffened, as if ready to pounce away at the slightly spark of tension, is a practiced one. His hands that are coated in glittering opal with pointed dagger-ends, were once smooth and dainty, unlike the roughened paws of a warrior. Even his size, large as it may be now, is akin to an animal that puffs itself to appear intimidating, rather than the trained physique of a practiced fighter. The air around the elf-troll is dubious at best, as if every word and twitch of the body that passes between them, was being cataloged strategiously within his mind. ]
no subject
He is fully aware that not everyone will walk in his shoes, understand his reasons, nor justify his desires. But the idea that their differences would make Slade even a fraction of a better person is a laughable one at best. Even Eridanus knew there are times when stubbornness in refusal of fate was foolhardy, and in the end, humans would be a food source for all monsterkind, whether they liked it or not.]
I don't meet with strangers off of the network often, not unless they have something I want. [Eridanus corrects him, because it is a very important distinction that needs to be outlinedโthat he is cautious too, and that should anything happen to him, others would know.] Considering there are monsters more powerful than I am, it would be foolish to meet with just anyone. That is how you get yourself killed if there's even a hint of betrayal in the air.
[Gaurded is a word that could describe Eridanus, but it's not without merit. The way his shoulders remain slightly stiffened, as if ready to pounce away at the slightly spark of tension, is a practiced one. His hands that are coated in glittering opal with pointed dagger-ends, were once smooth and dainty, unlike the roughened paws of a warrior. Even his size, large as it may be now, is akin to an animal that puffs itself to appear intimidating, rather than the trained physique of a practiced fighter. The air around the elf-troll is dubious at best, as if every word and twitch of the body that passes between them, was being cataloged strategiously within his mind. ]