[ A gasp and a flash of skin-crawling pain as thoughts that are not his force their way into his head. The reply is through gritted teeth, shot through with resignation. ]
So be it. Don't waste your anger on someone who merely did a favor for a friend.
I'm afraid you are too late for that one. I have already given him what he's owed.
[ There's the sense that he's thinking, a further skin-crawling sensation as his 'presence' mills about like a man pacing the floor. His anger is tightly suppressed, his thought process distant and calculating. And when he finally makes his decision, there's the uncomfortable sense that a clawed hand is caressing Jophrey's throat. ]
Hearken to my words:
You will not attempt to kill me or aid others in attempting to do so. You will not seek a way to reverse my deal with the Creator, or again, help others to do so. You will remain a passive observer should confrontation arise pertaining to this mess you've started.
[ A flash of anger and self-recrimination, followed by quiet, anxious murmuring, indistinct and nearly inaudible.
He tenses, his hand instinctively rising to fight off Emet's grip on his throat, but of course there's nothing there. The sigil thrums with ice-cold power there's a brief, futile struggle, and the command etches itself into his aether. ]
Aye.
[ The bitter taste of humiliation mixes with his mental voice. ]
[ The ghostly sensation eases away. Beyond his anger, there is a cold, distant sense of resignation and hurt. He should be satisfied, but he isn't. He just feels empty. ]
...And you will also thank the knight, Irhya, that I'm not demanding anything more of you.
[ He does not respond to this although he almost certainly heard it. Instead he withdraws, leaving Jophrey alone to his own thoughts - and his anger - once more. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text | un:Jophrey
voice...???
Yes, evidently. It seems I must devise some immutable commands for you, my dear hero.
"voice"
So be it. Don't waste your anger on someone who merely did a favor for a friend.
no subject
[ There's the sense that he's thinking, a further skin-crawling sensation as his 'presence' mills about like a man pacing the floor. His anger is tightly suppressed, his thought process distant and calculating. And when he finally makes his decision, there's the uncomfortable sense that a clawed hand is caressing Jophrey's throat. ]
Hearken to my words:
You will not attempt to kill me or aid others in attempting to do so.
You will not seek a way to reverse my deal with the Creator, or again, help others to do so.
You will remain a passive observer should confrontation arise pertaining to this mess you've started.
Do I make myself clear?
no subject
He tenses, his hand instinctively rising to fight off Emet's grip on his throat, but of course there's nothing there. The sigil thrums with ice-cold power there's a brief, futile struggle, and the command etches itself into his aether. ]
Aye.
[ The bitter taste of humiliation mixes with his mental voice. ]
'Tis out of my hands now.
no subject
...And you will also thank the knight, Irhya, that I'm not demanding anything more of you.
no subject
There was no need for that.
[ He'd ask whether Emet would like him to dance for his amusement as well, but he does not want to give him ideas. ]
no subject
[ In a savage, ugly, self-destructive way. ]
no subject
...Arsehole.
no subject