He'd had his feel of feeling as if he was being controlled already. To think that some petty mortal had done such a thing to him was not something he could stomach. And then to have to be polite to that very same mortal, to play nice--!
The game was long. He had to play it out to its end. He'd be the one laughing then.
And of course, now things were even more complicated because it had been revealed to the other prisoners that he was more than a simple scholar. At least he'd already admitted as much to Soma and Sora, so he could work with that. If nothing else, it set up for a logical set of lies for how he'd have to proceed.
But it was very, very annoying nonetheless. He didn't like having mortals interfering with plans. He had little choice, though.
Play the long game.
He managed to be pleasant to the nurse who fetched him, swallowing down his anger at the wound that had been done to his pride and his carefully built facade. The anger made a hot ball in his stomach, however, which made him even less interested in eating than normal. He obviously needed to, however; with as much magic as he'd used the previous night, it was necessary. He forced himself to fill a plate and then sat, on the opposite end of the room from Scar.
Well, that at least was a pleasant bit of the memories from last night. He couldn't help a brief smirk, as he passed the man, which he quickly wiped from his face, so fast that anyone who saw it might think they'd imagined it.
He sat on the opposite side of the room and started picking at his breakfast, shoulders hunched. The dejected, stressed pose was an act, he told himself. But it wasn't, not entirely. He was upset, particularly that he'd hurt some people he hadn't really wanted to; he could do that when necessary, but it hadn't been his choice, his game in this case.
Even upset, he was already thinking ahead to his next move. This game would be his in the end.
no subject
He'd had his feel of feeling as if he was being controlled already. To think that some petty mortal had done such a thing to him was not something he could stomach. And then to have to be polite to that very same mortal, to play nice--!
The game was long. He had to play it out to its end. He'd be the one laughing then.
And of course, now things were even more complicated because it had been revealed to the other prisoners that he was more than a simple scholar. At least he'd already admitted as much to Soma and Sora, so he could work with that. If nothing else, it set up for a logical set of lies for how he'd have to proceed.
But it was very, very annoying nonetheless. He didn't like having mortals interfering with plans. He had little choice, though.
Play the long game.
He managed to be pleasant to the nurse who fetched him, swallowing down his anger at the wound that had been done to his pride and his carefully built facade. The anger made a hot ball in his stomach, however, which made him even less interested in eating than normal. He obviously needed to, however; with as much magic as he'd used the previous night, it was necessary. He forced himself to fill a plate and then sat, on the opposite end of the room from Scar.
Well, that at least was a pleasant bit of the memories from last night. He couldn't help a brief smirk, as he passed the man, which he quickly wiped from his face, so fast that anyone who saw it might think they'd imagined it.
He sat on the opposite side of the room and started picking at his breakfast, shoulders hunched. The dejected, stressed pose was an act, he told himself. But it wasn't, not entirely. He was upset, particularly that he'd hurt some people he hadn't really wanted to; he could do that when necessary, but it hadn't been his choice, his game in this case.
Even upset, he was already thinking ahead to his next move. This game would be his in the end.
[Soma and the Once-ler]