For Ravus, there isn’t really a ceiling for something like hope. He’s had to pretend it can’t exist when fighting a millennium of damning prophecy in the hopes of saving his sister in just the span of their mortal lives. So he doesn’t really consider where Ardyn is placing his own bets, even when he rebukes the idea of promising things. He takes it as honesty instead of disparaging caution. If that damns either of them later, the thought doesn’t cross him.
“I’m still getting used to having anyone to call upon. Forgive me if it doesn't come naturally,” he says shrugging the mechanical shoulder. But he’s asked Ardyn for his honest effort, so Ravus thinks it only fair to do the same. “Though you seem content to thrive in chaos, so perhaps I will do so more often, if only to provide enrichment.”
Is he teasing? Maybe. Ravus’ tone is as serious and staunch as ever where anyone else would have probably lightened their tone, or at least cracked a good-natured smile. He gives no other indication to it as they walk, and simply picks a traveller's lodge that looks relatively clean. Cleaner than the rest of the dusty lodgings down this alley, anyway. And ruby red roses hang from the sign, which attracts him more than anything else.
“It’s much too late in the evening to be walking back to Town. I figure we can leave in the morning when there’s ample light.” He says as much as they approach the building. It’s odd though. They rent rooms by the hour rather than by the night here, and that visibly confuses Ravus. The keeper at the door arches a brow, looking between the pair like it should be obvious, but when Ravu’s stern expression doesn’t budge, she simply sighs and books them until morning. Maybe this world does things differently, it’s all Ravus can really imagine as they’re brought to a room.
Which is barely lit, and that also confuses him. It’s tinted warm and dark, with even the curtains already being drawn despite that fact the sun is still only setting. The heavy drapes certainly don’t look as if they’re meant to let one enjoy any outside light. The focal point of the room is clearly the ornate and broad bed, with little else in the way of furniture. The whole thing strikes Ravus as odd, but he doesn’t know why.
The woman bids them a good evening, leaving them alone, as Ravus sits himself on the edge of the bed with a confused tilt of his head.
“I cannot tell if it’s this town, or this entire world, that is quite so strange.”
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“I’m still getting used to having anyone to call upon. Forgive me if it doesn't come naturally,” he says shrugging the mechanical shoulder. But he’s asked Ardyn for his honest effort, so Ravus thinks it only fair to do the same. “Though you seem content to thrive in chaos, so perhaps I will do so more often, if only to provide enrichment.”
Is he teasing? Maybe. Ravus’ tone is as serious and staunch as ever where anyone else would have probably lightened their tone, or at least cracked a good-natured smile. He gives no other indication to it as they walk, and simply picks a traveller's lodge that looks relatively clean. Cleaner than the rest of the dusty lodgings down this alley, anyway. And ruby red roses hang from the sign, which attracts him more than anything else.
“It’s much too late in the evening to be walking back to Town. I figure we can leave in the morning when there’s ample light.” He says as much as they approach the building. It’s odd though. They rent rooms by the hour rather than by the night here, and that visibly confuses Ravus. The keeper at the door arches a brow, looking between the pair like it should be obvious, but when Ravu’s stern expression doesn’t budge, she simply sighs and books them until morning. Maybe this world does things differently, it’s all Ravus can really imagine as they’re brought to a room.
Which is barely lit, and that also confuses him. It’s tinted warm and dark, with even the curtains already being drawn despite that fact the sun is still only setting. The heavy drapes certainly don’t look as if they’re meant to let one enjoy any outside light. The focal point of the room is clearly the ornate and broad bed, with little else in the way of furniture. The whole thing strikes Ravus as odd, but he doesn’t know why.
The woman bids them a good evening, leaving them alone, as Ravus sits himself on the edge of the bed with a confused tilt of his head.
“I cannot tell if it’s this town, or this entire world, that is quite so strange.”