( there is markedly less conflict in the easy warmth of recognition that athénaïs reflects back to her— the idea that that might be something she regrets, in time, is not a new thought. sharrans gonna sharran. even still, she's far from convinced their differences are so staggering as all that,

theirs, specifically. she knows better than to think expressing all of her thoughts on that matter directly is going to be productive — yet — but she's more than a hundred years old and has reinvented herself a time or two in that century. they'll have the time or they won't, and all she can do is proceed as if she's as certain they will as she needs to be to get them there. and it's all fucking moot because they're here, actually, and she feels more wrung out and lessened even than she had on the nautiloid, disoriented by hands emptier than they have been since she was half shadowheart's age.

not even a whisper. no wonder the drink's tempting. )

Less chance of a mishap with the wrong lever when there are no levers, ( will it always be a little too soon for the remember the horrific seconds long mindflayer transformation that made it all real jokes— ) though it puts one in mind of the Absolutists, doesn't it?

( the cultists were not seeing the same things they saw, experiencing them the same way. the reality of the situation. is this, what they're seeing, the reality of what they're experiencing?

so there's less squinting, but it might not be markedly less paranoid. )