[ It is a small surprise when His Majesty decides to continue to devote his full attention to him, if only for it having not happened in some time. Sleipnir relishes in his gaze, although there is an undercurrent which haunts him, seems to haunt them both. Separation. Impossible, yet having done once, the sting of knowing it may occur again is one which curls in his stomach, gripping unkindly. Imagining Barnabas without him, bereft-
No. Sleipnir is here and he is here to stay. He will find whatever devil has caused this disunity and ensure it never happens again.
Still, he thought Barnabas would enlighten him upon chocoboback as they race through whatever track which lay before them. That they are to take a detour... Not to say he minds; Sleipnir's pleasure at this is as strong as his concern for his King. ]
Yes, my liege.
[ When His Majesty's hand leaves his face to remain on his shoulder Sleipnir's own hand presses gently atop it as he had before then gives it a firm squeeze before letting his arm drop to the side. He allows himself to be easily corralled through the exit of the racing track, although the shift in environments is still strange to him.
Outwardly he is unaffected, inwardly, with his liege lord here, Sleipnir now allows himself to feel a small amount unnerved by all the unnaturalness around them. Bright lights and discordant sounds, hellish despite the happy-fun veneer it coats itself in. Something evil is at work here.
His arrival had been startling in the suddenness of the shift of planes in which Sleipnir had walked. Yet not so much as to have thrown one's balance; he thought surely there was a purpose to this. After all, God does not make mistakes. Knowing there to be design in this, one needed only to find the tapestry's thread.
But the more he wandered and spoke to the strange Fallen-like beings the more he hadn't been certain. Sleipnir's familiarity with this building... with this world was... next to nothing. Still he had moved through it confidently, as if he'd already solved all the mysteries and was only entertaining himself as he sought an exit. Is there to be no exit?
Barnabas's inquiry has already pulled some answers from the dark. It is a world and indeed not building. ]
Only that we have been told we are to be champions of our world, which seems to be beset by some unspecified horror of which only collecting a miniature painting of one's self can vanquish.
[ What Sleipnir cannot understand is how His Majesty has been here a year and has yet to achieve his small likeness- unless what the Fallen-adjacent creatures spoke of is false, which considering the grandness of the claim, is entirely possible. ]
no subject
Imagining Barnabas without him, bereft-No. Sleipnir is here and he is here to stay. He will find whatever devil has caused this disunity and ensure it never happens again.
Still, he thought Barnabas would enlighten him upon chocoboback as they race through whatever track which lay before them. That they are to take a detour... Not to say he minds; Sleipnir's pleasure at this is as strong as his concern for his King. ]
Yes, my liege.
[ When His Majesty's hand leaves his face to remain on his shoulder Sleipnir's own hand presses gently atop it as he had before then gives it a firm squeeze before letting his arm drop to the side. He allows himself to be easily corralled through the exit of the racing track, although the shift in environments is still strange to him.
Outwardly he is unaffected, inwardly, with his liege lord here, Sleipnir now allows himself to feel a small amount unnerved by all the unnaturalness around them. Bright lights and discordant sounds, hellish despite the happy-fun veneer it coats itself in. Something evil is at work here.
His arrival had been startling in the suddenness of the shift of planes in which Sleipnir had walked. Yet not so much as to have thrown one's balance; he thought surely there was a purpose to this. After all, God does not make mistakes. Knowing there to be design in this, one needed only to find the tapestry's thread.
But the more he wandered and spoke to the strange Fallen-like beings the more he hadn't been certain. Sleipnir's familiarity with this building... with this world was... next to nothing. Still he had moved through it confidently, as if he'd already solved all the mysteries and was only entertaining himself as he sought an exit.
Is there to be no exit?Barnabas's inquiry has already pulled some answers from the dark. It is a world and indeed not building. ]
Only that we have been told we are to be champions of our world, which seems to be beset by some unspecified horror of which only collecting a miniature painting of one's self can vanquish.
[ What Sleipnir cannot understand is how His Majesty has been here a year and has yet to achieve his small likeness- unless what the Fallen-adjacent creatures spoke of is false, which considering the grandness of the claim, is entirely possible. ]