[ Brandon simply doesn't care for it. It's in the wrong land, it comes with too much baggage, and those he is beholden to, he loves with all his childish heart - the Hill, by contrast, would only be another friend-bully in arcane disguise, overly demanding, a hand too heavy on the back of the neck. He has tasted it in the first bite of Qetzi's dinner, heard it in the angry murmurs of the dead when he tends to his tools in his room. The power doesn't interest him personally, not at the price.
In any case, he calls himself magus and is competent enough in the areas that his own country's systems have determined define such an individual, but he only loves necromancy and demons are really quite beside the point for him.
It's good to know that they're here, though. The masters would probably find the information useful. ]
No accounting for taste.
[ In using that phrase, a tacit acknowledgment also of the possibility of Tavor's mixed up genetics. To be fair, you can get a tail without being a monstrous hybrid, but Brandon doesn't see any of the usual signs of fleshcrafting at such a scale, or of other forms of alteration. Tavor seems, if nothing else, entirely himself, secure in the inhuman aspects of his skin. ]
no subject
In any case, he calls himself magus and is competent enough in the areas that his own country's systems have determined define such an individual, but he only loves necromancy and demons are really quite beside the point for him.
It's good to know that they're here, though. The masters would probably find the information useful. ]
No accounting for taste.
[ In using that phrase, a tacit acknowledgment also of the possibility of Tavor's mixed up genetics. To be fair, you can get a tail without being a monstrous hybrid, but Brandon doesn't see any of the usual signs of fleshcrafting at such a scale, or of other forms of alteration. Tavor seems, if nothing else, entirely himself, secure in the inhuman aspects of his skin. ]