But there is a symphony of emotions that swim across the Dark Urge's face that are at first hard to decipher because they simply do not belong there. There is the thought that perhaps he should have told him, but when this was up in the air and he did not expect for there to be a repeat performance -- well, that was a liability that did not need to be introduced.
But he thinks he understands. This man does his work with precision, and if he didn't know that for whatever reason Bane's Chosen had a body that did not respond normally to bruises and lacerations, then it looked like he had committed an error, in spite of his expertise.
That feels the most logical. It makes the most sense when considering the avatars chosen as their gods' mortal hands in the world, tyranny and murder, who did not shrink at the sight of blood, who did not turn away from the suffering they caused in other people. Who did not bare weak spots, or fail.
And yet.
A hand rests on the Dark Urge's cheek, guiding him to meet his gaze again. And now he was ducking his head to chase after it, to stay in his view. "You have committed no error," he says quietly. "This is me. I...saw no point in revealing it, when there was no certainty it would happen again." Even if he wished for it.
no subject
But there is a symphony of emotions that swim across the Dark Urge's face that are at first hard to decipher because they simply do not belong there. There is the thought that perhaps he should have told him, but when this was up in the air and he did not expect for there to be a repeat performance -- well, that was a liability that did not need to be introduced.
But he thinks he understands. This man does his work with precision, and if he didn't know that for whatever reason Bane's Chosen had a body that did not respond normally to bruises and lacerations, then it looked like he had committed an error, in spite of his expertise.
That feels the most logical. It makes the most sense when considering the avatars chosen as their gods' mortal hands in the world, tyranny and murder, who did not shrink at the sight of blood, who did not turn away from the suffering they caused in other people. Who did not bare weak spots, or fail.
And yet.
A hand rests on the Dark Urge's cheek, guiding him to meet his gaze again. And now he was ducking his head to chase after it, to stay in his view. "You have committed no error," he says quietly. "This is me. I...saw no point in revealing it, when there was no certainty it would happen again." Even if he wished for it.