[Carlisle's glowing eyes fixate on the dog, a mixture of apprehension and anger lacing into the crease of his brow as the hound -- for the second time now -- speaks directly to him, its words too precise, too accurate to be mere coincidence. His glyph was off, it says. He shouldn't have inhaled so much. Know yourself, Blight Heir. It knows what he was doing with the tea, knows he was experimenting -- it knows why.
It has to be prying into his mind through these shared dreams, Carlisle decides, and he doesn't appreciate that in the slightest. He's no scryer, but even if he were, he'd respect the privacy of someone else's mind. As a man who came from a prominent family and had very little he could keep from his community -- everyone knew the Longinmouths, and everyone knew he was the last of them, and everyone knew he was the failure of their line -- his thoughts were the one thing he could keep private. True, they were often suffocating, filled with anxiety and worry and festering bitterness, but they were his, hidden behind the polite demeanor he wore at his church until he was in the sanctity of his own home, where he could vent aloud to himself.
Thankfully, Reynir draws his attention away before he can stew too long in his suspicion or question the dog himself. Casting one more sharp look to the beast, he returns his eyes to Reynir.]
My room is 004. I am but a few doors from your dwelling.
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It has to be prying into his mind through these shared dreams, Carlisle decides, and he doesn't appreciate that in the slightest. He's no scryer, but even if he were, he'd respect the privacy of someone else's mind. As a man who came from a prominent family and had very little he could keep from his community -- everyone knew the Longinmouths, and everyone knew he was the last of them, and everyone knew he was the failure of their line -- his thoughts were the one thing he could keep private. True, they were often suffocating, filled with anxiety and worry and festering bitterness, but they were his, hidden behind the polite demeanor he wore at his church until he was in the sanctity of his own home, where he could vent aloud to himself.
Thankfully, Reynir draws his attention away before he can stew too long in his suspicion or question the dog himself. Casting one more sharp look to the beast, he returns his eyes to Reynir.]
My room is 004. I am but a few doors from your dwelling.