I see that your crude tongue has not changed. How disappointing.
[In other circumstances, he would threaten to cut it out of Sylvain's mouth—certainly he should at least make the intimidation clear. But he expects it will roll off his old friend's back like so much harmless breath, a change in language that cows Sylvain not at all. How many others have shouted themselves hoarse in some effort to be heard, to leave some visible impression on Sylvain? He cannot bring himself to that low, even if he may already be there in spirit.
Dimitri doesn't falter in his course, hauling the other man with him through the long-throated corridors, their footsteps an irregular pattern on the stone. He doesn't stop until they've reached one of the rooms adjoining the dormitories near the church. Everything is in disrepair: a too-clear depiction of the ruined creature, once a man, dwelling within its walls. Here, he shoves Sylvain ahead of him into the room, then stops to lean his lance in the corner.
It may be obvious at once that this is where Dimitri is spending much of his time, when he is not roaming the grounds or staring at the hole in the cathedral ceiling. There is a cot in the corner, and furniture wiped free of dust, and other items suggesting the requirements of the living, such as a water pitcher and crate of foodstuffs. Otherwise it is sad, pathetic space, unfit for a prince.]
Stay there and do not move, or I will make it so that you can't. [He hasn't responded to the second comment. Perhaps he is pretending it was never said.] You should make this easier for yourself and tell me what you know. I will not be so kind, asking twice.
no subject
[In other circumstances, he would threaten to cut it out of Sylvain's mouth—certainly he should at least make the intimidation clear. But he expects it will roll off his old friend's back like so much harmless breath, a change in language that cows Sylvain not at all. How many others have shouted themselves hoarse in some effort to be heard, to leave some visible impression on Sylvain? He cannot bring himself to that low, even if he may already be there in spirit.
Dimitri doesn't falter in his course, hauling the other man with him through the long-throated corridors, their footsteps an irregular pattern on the stone. He doesn't stop until they've reached one of the rooms adjoining the dormitories near the church. Everything is in disrepair: a too-clear depiction of the ruined creature, once a man, dwelling within its walls. Here, he shoves Sylvain ahead of him into the room, then stops to lean his lance in the corner.
It may be obvious at once that this is where Dimitri is spending much of his time, when he is not roaming the grounds or staring at the hole in the cathedral ceiling. There is a cot in the corner, and furniture wiped free of dust, and other items suggesting the requirements of the living, such as a water pitcher and crate of foodstuffs. Otherwise it is sad, pathetic space, unfit for a prince.]
Stay there and do not move, or I will make it so that you can't. [He hasn't responded to the second comment. Perhaps he is pretending it was never said.] You should make this easier for yourself and tell me what you know. I will not be so kind, asking twice.