Commander Sanson Smyth

//I've titled this one 'I heard the door opening animation noise while nudie posing who the fuck is in here'

>> right at Emet-Selch's heels.

No more games.

For Hythlodaeus, Sanson can put his feelings about everything aside.

(Focus.)

He'd already shown an embarrassing display of poor temper - inexcusable for a Commander. He would do better - he'd focus on the mission at hand. Vrtra still needed to be freed.

The dragoon steps along at a quick pace,>>

>> at the clone, voice very matter of fact. "This man has slaughtered entire worlds to get that 'counterpart' back. You are not going to survive. And there's no negotiation."

Sanson closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Hythlodaeus..." He murmurs with sad, quiet exasperation.

A very tame reaction, compared to Azem trying to kill Emet-Selch when he learned of the last time Hythlodaeus had sacrificed himself. Though these were less extenuating circumstances.

He looks >>

//Emet selch: ugh you're OBSESSED with me
Sanson: for the last time filing a restraining order is not "writing in my diary about you"

[reads, raises head and stares into the middle distance]

😑

Okay, lesson learned. Never tell anyone out loud where I'm planning to go swimming...

>> and spitting venom and insults as Sanson coughed up congealed light from his lungs, barely able to breathe.

He still has nightmares about that.

(Not the time.)

Sanson's brow furrows - his blood is still racing and his teeth ache for flesh and blood but he denies himself.

(Control.)

Even he doesn't miss the sudden shift in attitude for the Ascian, and it makes him bristle. It reminds him too much of being cornered on top of Mount Gulg, glaring at him >>

//I've titled this one 'I heard the door opening animation noise while nudie posing who the fuck is in here'

"And I am giving you no last chance to return Vrtra. You've expended what mercy I have, and you're going to suffer the full consequences."

"It's just a clone. A mindless creation with no soul. Do whatever you want with it."

Are you sure? I can help you draft your recruitment form right now if you want.

[his brow furrows slightly as he looks up from his logbook]

... If you want to enlist in the Adders you are of course welcome to do so, and I'll help you with the process any way I can. But I cannot guarantee you a spot in my contingent.

//who saved this

>> the room. He'd heard of Orthos from G'raha Tia but had not yet explored it himself.

And he certainly hadn't intended to do so today.

The floor *cracks* as Sanson lands, splitting beneath his feet in every cardinal direction.

Seeing the Ascian hobble about a bit in pain satisfied his fury enough for him to not immediately resume attacking.

He snorts blue aether fire from his nose, standing to his full height and looking around >

>> through the dungeon. He hadn't been aware there was even anything besides dirt to plunge into in the first place - but he can only passively acknowledge the unexpected length of their mutual fall.

Too much dragon brain devoted to anger.

/"Gahn ashan!!"/ Sanson's voice booms with unnatural force as he yells back - it's a miracle he hasn't fully transformed by this point, but the amount of scales on his body has tripled and his eyes are blazing.

Almost literally.

He doesn't even acknowledge their surroundings as they plummet >>

Wherever they intended to go was irrelevant - they were now only going for sure in one direction.

Very, very down.

>> dragoon dives the Ascian with as much force as the chosen of Hydaelyn is capable of.

He just /had/ to touch him.

Sanson would have, in his younger days, had more control. But the dragon blood and PTSD have not helped his temper.

On top of that, he has had no bard to help soothe his bubbling rage.

It's not so much a conscious decision as it is an inevitability, when he suddenly >>

You're welcome.

Are you saying 'I appreciate it' in casual shorthand form or are you asking me to express gratitude for you not acting like a child every time we speak.

>> calling, but he has to hear SOMETHING from the dragon hidden away nearby. Right?

"Shut UP-!"

His lance pierces the node before it can finish the last syllable, and he flings both it and Emet-Selch aside.

"I have had enough of Allag and its pathetic knock off nation! I want nothing more to do with either of you!"

He storms inside the gates, risking a roar - he's not used to >>

I assumed that was every interaction you had with me.

Decorum if naught else.

[he tries not to think of the fact that Zenos has a nose very similar if not identical to his great grandfather, and fails]

[He rubs his forehead]

You can call it something else.