[ Reynir rubs at his neck, a feeling of awkwardness settling in as he realizes just how lost Carlisle is. How is he going to be able to help and guide him, share this space with him, if Carlisle doesn't even remember who he is? Carlisle sounds really annoyed, and Reynir cannot help a quick glance at him. Perhaps it's because he's used to seeing only a tiny portion of Carlisle's face, but he looks particularly grumpy. ]
You ... don't remember me? It's me. It's Reynir. I'm the mage from Iceland? I made you tea...?
[ He almost says 'I saved you from some robots at a spa' but that might sound like he's bragging about that and he's not trying to get things off on the wrong foot, here. Just as he's chewing the inside of his cheek and worrying about how he can help snap his friend out of his apparent amnesia, the sheepdog approaches Carlisle. It sits, neat and prim, just in front of him, looking him in the face with its oddly human demeanor.
And then, it speaks: ]
Know yourself, Blight Heir.
[ There is something of a command, in the words. Reynir isn't sure why it sends a shiver down his spine. Blight Heir? Is that some kind of title? It definitely... sounds ominous, but he second-guesses his instincts, thinks perhaps it is some cultural thing he doesn't understand... ]
no subject
[ Reynir rubs at his neck, a feeling of awkwardness settling in as he realizes just how lost Carlisle is. How is he going to be able to help and guide him, share this space with him, if Carlisle doesn't even remember who he is? Carlisle sounds really annoyed, and Reynir cannot help a quick glance at him. Perhaps it's because he's used to seeing only a tiny portion of Carlisle's face, but he looks particularly grumpy. ]
You ... don't remember me? It's me. It's Reynir. I'm the mage from Iceland? I made you tea...?
[ He almost says 'I saved you from some robots at a spa' but that might sound like he's bragging about that and he's not trying to get things off on the wrong foot, here. Just as he's chewing the inside of his cheek and worrying about how he can help snap his friend out of his apparent amnesia, the sheepdog approaches Carlisle. It sits, neat and prim, just in front of him, looking him in the face with its oddly human demeanor.
And then, it speaks: ]
Know yourself, Blight Heir.
[ There is something of a command, in the words. Reynir isn't sure why it sends a shiver down his spine. Blight Heir? Is that some kind of title? It definitely... sounds ominous, but he second-guesses his instincts, thinks perhaps it is some cultural thing he doesn't understand... ]