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{What the devil-}
No, Granpa, it’s not the devil. But the sight of Hollows marching through the streets of his City is enough to send the big cat into a shrieking rage.
He’s going to protect his family, even if it costs him his mortal shell. {Sulyvahn. Get your little corpse party. Off my streets.}
{...}
He would volunteer. But he’s under pretty clear orders not to put himself in that kinda danger.
Hm.
{W-wait what’s wrong with her?!}
{... For the record, no. They don’t...}
{... Wow, Senator Aequor might as well be Senator Timex.}
Ohhhhhh no. That couldn’t be. That couldn’t be a civFUCK CAN’T FORGET ABOUT THE SHADE HE’S FIGHTING. Aryn, please, for the love of all things holy, be fast enough.
{... Adorable, indeed. Lemme squish your angry little cheeks.}
Within his little hideaway, from deep in a trance, he can feel them. The creatures outside the Citadel. They are waiting… Watching… At the slightest command from the wrongful Pontiff, they will rip and tear and destroy.
To say he is taking this so-called war personally would be to oversimplify the matter. Sulyvahn destroyed his birthplace, tore up all of the work and sorceries he could not carry with him as scrolls or commit to memory, and then made a cheap mockery of his form out of what had once been a King. To say nothing of the way he had destroyed the rest of the Royal family… Oh yes. He had reason to consider this personal.
He would remind these fools of what his work had once been and bring them to their knees with it.
