08-15-2021, 09:02 PM
"Sing?!"
The word demands to be said, though he tries to swallow it, making it a strangled, bedraggled thing that falls ungracefully from his lips before he can regain his composure. She wants him to sing to the ghosts? No, no, that's unfair, it's not what she said, only that they like it, and hasn't he been unforgivably rude to them already? Enoch clears his throat and pretends he has not screeched that bedamned word into existence at all.
"I am not certain they will like my singing," he says, all cool charm once again. He isn't quite certain that this is a convincing argument, though he isn't quite certain that she is being serious, either. There's a sense like laughter but he can't grasp the feeling that bubbles between them. Is she joking, or just amused by the ghosts' real request? He hides his puzzlement in jest, instead.
"Imagine having already had the misfortune to die, and then being forced to listen to me caterwauling at them like an elephant seal? No, no, I'm sure they'll like your singing much better than mine." He curls his neck, drawing his muzzle back to his chest so the look that he gives her is full of the same good-natured false modesty that fills his throat, but she turns the subject to something he knows better and his manner brightens again.
"Interesting places? Oh, well, I guess that depends on what you'd like to see. Everywhere you go is beautiful, here, and if you prefer spooky stuff, your friends are probably better guides than me." Most of the Boneyards are deep underwater and she doesn't have the look of someone who could tolerate being long beneath the surface. He hesitates and wonders if he should warn her - are all the ghosts her friends? Ivar dragged many to their deaths in Ischia's waters and surely some are angry, bitter souls.
"There is a place I could show you... we aren't really supposed to go there," but that's the fun of it, his grins finishes silently.
The word demands to be said, though he tries to swallow it, making it a strangled, bedraggled thing that falls ungracefully from his lips before he can regain his composure. She wants him to sing to the ghosts? No, no, that's unfair, it's not what she said, only that they like it, and hasn't he been unforgivably rude to them already? Enoch clears his throat and pretends he has not screeched that bedamned word into existence at all.
"I am not certain they will like my singing," he says, all cool charm once again. He isn't quite certain that this is a convincing argument, though he isn't quite certain that she is being serious, either. There's a sense like laughter but he can't grasp the feeling that bubbles between them. Is she joking, or just amused by the ghosts' real request? He hides his puzzlement in jest, instead.
"Imagine having already had the misfortune to die, and then being forced to listen to me caterwauling at them like an elephant seal? No, no, I'm sure they'll like your singing much better than mine." He curls his neck, drawing his muzzle back to his chest so the look that he gives her is full of the same good-natured false modesty that fills his throat, but she turns the subject to something he knows better and his manner brightens again.
"Interesting places? Oh, well, I guess that depends on what you'd like to see. Everywhere you go is beautiful, here, and if you prefer spooky stuff, your friends are probably better guides than me." Most of the Boneyards are deep underwater and she doesn't have the look of someone who could tolerate being long beneath the surface. He hesitates and wonders if he should warn her - are all the ghosts her friends? Ivar dragged many to their deaths in Ischia's waters and surely some are angry, bitter souls.
"There is a place I could show you... we aren't really supposed to go there," but that's the fun of it, his grins finishes silently.
@Maurtia