04-12-2019, 10:31 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 1.35; padding: 4px;"]Sheogorath had gone stark-raving mad.
Maybe he'd always been like this  his words indicated less of a development so much as a regression. Link had never been particularly keen on confrontation; if it was avoidable, he'd avoid it and if it wasn't, he'd... find a way regardless. For him, conflict was less a form of entertainment and more a drain on the soul  there were better, more constructive ways of occupying oneself, and fighting only served to interrupt his train of thought. It was hard to focus with screaming around and Sheogorath was... very loud. Even once he'd quietened, his presence was a chaotic, thunderous thing, looming over the area relentlessly. Had he any less patience  or more apathy  he'd have scooted himself away. Instead, he found himself moving closer, lingering at Santos' side, expression exasperated.
What happened to good, old-fashioned emotional repression? Did they not teach it in the Badlands? Link had learned, over time, to swallow his feelings, put a cork in it and pretend things didn't matter  evidently, Sheogorath hadn't gotten the memo. "Hey," he said to Santos, quiet and blank, hand hovering over the man's arm. He'd've addressed Sheo, but he doubted the madman wanted his input. He settled for a wordless, searching glance instead, deadpan and barely unimpressed. He'd be worried later.
Maybe he'd always been like this  his words indicated less of a development so much as a regression. Link had never been particularly keen on confrontation; if it was avoidable, he'd avoid it and if it wasn't, he'd... find a way regardless. For him, conflict was less a form of entertainment and more a drain on the soul  there were better, more constructive ways of occupying oneself, and fighting only served to interrupt his train of thought. It was hard to focus with screaming around and Sheogorath was... very loud. Even once he'd quietened, his presence was a chaotic, thunderous thing, looming over the area relentlessly. Had he any less patience  or more apathy  he'd have scooted himself away. Instead, he found himself moving closer, lingering at Santos' side, expression exasperated.
What happened to good, old-fashioned emotional repression? Did they not teach it in the Badlands? Link had learned, over time, to swallow his feelings, put a cork in it and pretend things didn't matter  evidently, Sheogorath hadn't gotten the memo. "Hey," he said to Santos, quiet and blank, hand hovering over the man's arm. He'd've addressed Sheo, but he doubted the madman wanted his input. He settled for a wordless, searching glance instead, deadpan and barely unimpressed. He'd be worried later.