03-15-2025, 09:57 PM
So far Kallisti was shaping up to be quite the different experience compared to his previous visit. He half wondered if Oriena was hovering in the shadows watching him, but the half of him that was curious as to who else was nearby was fighting vigorously against the half of him that was dead-eyed locked on Bode.
Once she rounded into view, he draped an arm languidly along the ridge of the cushions, opening his posture as if inviting her to slide into his lap. But the eyes of the man above the body were quite different than the below posture suggested. He was studying her as if recording her details.
When she did indeed sit, it was with far less fanfare than he expected. Almost as if she had yelped at the strike of his voice. Something akin to regret fluttered inside at that. He hadn’t really meant to scare her, and now that he looked at her, he was torn at how much he was really suppose to hate her for all the trouble she was putting him through.
But then she spoke and any semblance of remorse evaporated, replaced by the twinge of wounded pride. “Fuck Emmy” he retorted, referring to the M'Antinomian with his trademark nickname. “I am Voxel—“ his voice lowered to simply mouth the identity, “through and through.”
“Emmy is pretty pissed. If you return it they’ll probably let you walk away.” He extended his hand, palm open, as if expecting her to relinquish the artifact on the spot.
Once she rounded into view, he draped an arm languidly along the ridge of the cushions, opening his posture as if inviting her to slide into his lap. But the eyes of the man above the body were quite different than the below posture suggested. He was studying her as if recording her details.
When she did indeed sit, it was with far less fanfare than he expected. Almost as if she had yelped at the strike of his voice. Something akin to regret fluttered inside at that. He hadn’t really meant to scare her, and now that he looked at her, he was torn at how much he was really suppose to hate her for all the trouble she was putting him through.
But then she spoke and any semblance of remorse evaporated, replaced by the twinge of wounded pride. “Fuck Emmy” he retorted, referring to the M'Antinomian with his trademark nickname. “I am Voxel—“ his voice lowered to simply mouth the identity, “through and through.”
“Emmy is pretty pissed. If you return it they’ll probably let you walk away.” He extended his hand, palm open, as if expecting her to relinquish the artifact on the spot.