That he was young compared to the existence that was Dorian was understood, and the Tidebreaker took no outward insult at the other being's indulgent tone, any more than he flinched from the threat that purred through it, subtle as starlight on silver waves. He might have been a statue, for as still as he held himself. Sweat beaded on his skin unheeded, trickled across gold-chased scars in contrast to who he spoke with, but Hadama faced the heat, embraced it, and made his peace with it.
Dorian's veneer of civility cracked, then. Only for a moment, but Hadama's attention had not wavered and he took note of the sneer without comment, content to wait for the eldritch man to regain his control. Sharper than ever when it returned, but the blade had been there before. Now it was simply coming out of its sheath. There was neither pity nor sympathy in the gem-like gaze of the Tidebreaker, but an adamant certainty coalesced there as he considered the poetry and the promise that Dorian revealed, perhaps unknowing. He listened to the leader of his enemies, and he learned. And only then did he speak, quiet and unhurried in his own time.
"Indeed, she did not rise from here. But now she is also a... hmm. A 'soft-lunged mortal.' Dying, as are all of us who walk this world. And whether her last breath is tomorrow or a century from now her soul will go to Mort's Halls, as do ours."
His gaze was almost tranquil as he looked into Dorian's eyes, the scent of the Void an unpleasant taint upon the sea air that he did not, for the moment, allow to distract him. "What is her worth to you, Dorian of the Void? One such as you describe... A creature of aeons. Of things we of Caido cannot even name. A member of your own far-traveling family."
Finally he took his eyes from the being in the dapper black suit, offering a bow of respect.
And, perhaps, understanding.
"A single region is too meager a price for such a being."
Dorian's veneer of civility cracked, then. Only for a moment, but Hadama's attention had not wavered and he took note of the sneer without comment, content to wait for the eldritch man to regain his control. Sharper than ever when it returned, but the blade had been there before. Now it was simply coming out of its sheath. There was neither pity nor sympathy in the gem-like gaze of the Tidebreaker, but an adamant certainty coalesced there as he considered the poetry and the promise that Dorian revealed, perhaps unknowing. He listened to the leader of his enemies, and he learned. And only then did he speak, quiet and unhurried in his own time.
"Indeed, she did not rise from here. But now she is also a... hmm. A 'soft-lunged mortal.' Dying, as are all of us who walk this world. And whether her last breath is tomorrow or a century from now her soul will go to Mort's Halls, as do ours."
His gaze was almost tranquil as he looked into Dorian's eyes, the scent of the Void an unpleasant taint upon the sea air that he did not, for the moment, allow to distract him. "What is her worth to you, Dorian of the Void? One such as you describe... A creature of aeons. Of things we of Caido cannot even name. A member of your own far-traveling family."
Finally he took his eyes from the being in the dapper black suit, offering a bow of respect.
And, perhaps, understanding.
"A single region is too meager a price for such a being."
