[ He'd taken a detour after bidding Tavor what he flatters himself was a congenial farewell, and sure of the path he'd marked (twice now, first by himself, second by messenger). However steeped in decay Brandon had found the house, the beast warrens below are worse. Yet the carelessly flung aside nephilim skull is still discernible in all of it — older, keener, and familiar. A frigid wisp of a curse escapes its mandible when he lays hands on it again, like sudden exposure to outer space. He laughs and tucks it into his coat again.
Only later, in his room, does he think to ask it about Qetzi'ah. It is obdurate as always, refusing questions it deems inadequate or imprecise, giving poor answers when backed into a semantic corner. Brandon is familiar with its ways, and clever enough, though he has yet to realize that it's his lack of power, his vulnerable mortality that forces it to answer in a way it wouldn't answer the real necromancers.
And so... an answer, of sorts, to the pressing question of what Qetzi'ah would accept as a gift. This time the skull is the one who laughs.
He doesn't loose another messenger just yet. It is not necessary, given Kaevyn's skills. All he has to do to put this plan into motion is make a call. ]
no subject
Only later, in his room, does he think to ask it about Qetzi'ah. It is obdurate as always, refusing questions it deems inadequate or imprecise, giving poor answers when backed into a semantic corner. Brandon is familiar with its ways, and clever enough, though he has yet to realize that it's his lack of power, his vulnerable mortality that forces it to answer in a way it wouldn't answer the real necromancers.
And so... an answer, of sorts, to the pressing question of what Qetzi'ah would accept as a gift. This time the skull is the one who laughs.
He doesn't loose another messenger just yet. It is not necessary, given Kaevyn's skills. All he has to do to put this plan into motion is make a call. ]