[Humans. He was, he's still - ...or is he? He wants to say he still counts himself, if only to spite the fog god of this, but he hasn't since he ate his first soul.]
[Apparently that doesn't make a difference in this; Stocke can't blame the woman either. Can't feel much besides pity, really - even without Greed's 'I don't fight women,' he wouldn't have wanted to do anything to her. All the same, his job is to protect this place, the monsters here.] —No need to fight.— [Quiet.] —Just convince her the 'Nest isn't worth the trouble.—
[How is the harder part; small things aren't likely to dissaude someone with that sort of grudge, and more extreme ones are - tasteless. Especially considering the circumstances, and the slightly older child she has remaining. Something he'd rather leave as a last resort. So the first thing that comes to mind that's still available -] —...maybe find something to keep her busy enough in Bavan, once she returns, that she has no time to invest in Vandare.— [Then all they have to do is last out the couple of weeks she'll be here first.]
[As Greed goes, Stocke floats after, eyeing the floor under him as it shakes, tendrils swishing uneasily at Greed's expression. (Usually he sees less scowling, more of a voluntary grin - if a wolfish one.) Dark swirls around them, and mist, leaving Stocke just a pair of glowing eyes - at least until he reaches for his sword's sheath as they pass, dragging it back through the air and into incorporeal ribs. He'd rather have it with him, have something to resort to that isn't ripping out people's souls -]
[Stocke swallows as ravenousness hits him with the thought, but it feels stilted without a mouth or real throat; the noise it makes is a thin electronic whine. (Like a pale imitation of an actual swallow made by someone solid.) He's hungry, been pushing himself as near to the limit as he dared again, and using his invisibility recently had only made it worse. (In fairness, he hadn't known it would - most of his previous uses had been not long after he'd fed, hadn't made enough of a difference to be notable. But now...)]
[Stocke lifts one dangling claw slightly to his side - but his sword's hilt isn't there, not with the way he's carrying it now, and his fingers wouldn't be able to curl tight around it even if it were. He doesn't have the luxury of that little tell, nothing material to ground himself with. So instead he glides in Greed's wake silently, shadowing.]
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[Apparently that doesn't make a difference in this; Stocke can't blame the woman either. Can't feel much besides pity, really - even without Greed's 'I don't fight women,' he wouldn't have wanted to do anything to her. All the same, his job is to protect this place, the monsters here.] —No need to fight.— [Quiet.] —Just convince her the 'Nest isn't worth the trouble.—
[How is the harder part; small things aren't likely to dissaude someone with that sort of grudge, and more extreme ones are - tasteless. Especially considering the circumstances, and the slightly older child she has remaining. Something he'd rather leave as a last resort. So the first thing that comes to mind that's still available -] —...maybe find something to keep her busy enough in Bavan, once she returns, that she has no time to invest in Vandare.— [Then all they have to do is last out the couple of weeks she'll be here first.]
[As Greed goes, Stocke floats after, eyeing the floor under him as it shakes, tendrils swishing uneasily at Greed's expression. (Usually he sees less scowling, more of a voluntary grin - if a wolfish one.) Dark swirls around them, and mist, leaving Stocke just a pair of glowing eyes - at least until he reaches for his sword's sheath as they pass, dragging it back through the air and into incorporeal ribs. He'd rather have it with him, have something to resort to that isn't ripping out people's souls -]
[Stocke swallows as ravenousness hits him with the thought, but it feels stilted without a mouth or real throat; the noise it makes is a thin electronic whine. (Like a pale imitation of an actual swallow made by someone solid.) He's hungry, been pushing himself as near to the limit as he dared again, and using his invisibility recently had only made it worse. (In fairness, he hadn't known it would - most of his previous uses had been not long after he'd fed, hadn't made enough of a difference to be notable. But now...)]
[Stocke lifts one dangling claw slightly to his side - but his sword's hilt isn't there, not with the way he's carrying it now, and his fingers wouldn't be able to curl tight around it even if it were. He doesn't have the luxury of that little tell, nothing material to ground himself with. So instead he glides in Greed's wake silently, shadowing.]