09-26-2017, 06:27 PM
Every one of the Liberators had a decision to make now, whether they liked it or not. Morene was no exception, and as soon as a ping of shock ran down her augmented spine upon seeing Grigore return to face the huntress, she knew of the Darkspawn's intentions.
Looking around as she approached, the faces she saw confronting her allies were... unfamiliar. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots and guess that this was a blatant and forced manipulative scenario designed to trap fools into the gaping maw that is the dark energy of Nebula and it's supposed corrupting powers.
A few more steps was all it took to feel the gargoyle's breath at her face again, the woman's helmet now lowered to stare the man in his eyes.
His blue noble robes, slicked back hair, curled horns and large curved blade by his side were unmistakable qualities of Grigore. Not even a devilish Nebula-influenced aura surrounded by the likes of the Darklings was visible on the man's stone-like skin. All of it made Morene slightly excited, in all honesty. The chance to talk to this honestly interesting, if not flawed individual once again was something she only dreamed of doing until now.
His breath was clean, as usual. She remembered that much from her last fight with the creature; he had a knack for appearance and presentation, despite being a creature of the night himself. That alone almost gave Morene Fellon second thoughts about the legitimacy of this Darkspawn copy, but...
"Morene Fellon," he spoke, "it has been quite some time."
His voice was low and baritone as she remembered. Still, the doubts creeped at Morene's mind anyways. She wanted to believe she could have a second start with this powerful being, or at least learn of his true intentions, but alas, he continued.
"You are not inclined to believe me, I know you never were," Grigore sighed, "but this could be the start of something greater than Abucairo ever would be. You were the only one worthy."
A smile creaked at the woman's lips, staring at the Darkchip now seeming to float within the gargoyle's palms. How flattering! She thought, holding back a bit of a giggle. The amusement didn't last long, however. Slowly, Morene's face turned into that of a melancholic expression.
"You are not him," Morene claimed, looking down as if her vowed enemy wasn't there in the first place. She elaborated further, hoping perhaps this "Grigore" fake would prove her wrong anyways.
"He would not have went after such petty sources of power."
Silence followed short. The only thing the huntress could do after that is walk away with a reminder.
In the Omniverse, there are no true traces of home.
Looking around as she approached, the faces she saw confronting her allies were... unfamiliar. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots and guess that this was a blatant and forced manipulative scenario designed to trap fools into the gaping maw that is the dark energy of Nebula and it's supposed corrupting powers.
A few more steps was all it took to feel the gargoyle's breath at her face again, the woman's helmet now lowered to stare the man in his eyes.
His blue noble robes, slicked back hair, curled horns and large curved blade by his side were unmistakable qualities of Grigore. Not even a devilish Nebula-influenced aura surrounded by the likes of the Darklings was visible on the man's stone-like skin. All of it made Morene slightly excited, in all honesty. The chance to talk to this honestly interesting, if not flawed individual once again was something she only dreamed of doing until now.
His breath was clean, as usual. She remembered that much from her last fight with the creature; he had a knack for appearance and presentation, despite being a creature of the night himself. That alone almost gave Morene Fellon second thoughts about the legitimacy of this Darkspawn copy, but...
"Morene Fellon," he spoke, "it has been quite some time."
His voice was low and baritone as she remembered. Still, the doubts creeped at Morene's mind anyways. She wanted to believe she could have a second start with this powerful being, or at least learn of his true intentions, but alas, he continued.
"You are not inclined to believe me, I know you never were," Grigore sighed, "but this could be the start of something greater than Abucairo ever would be. You were the only one worthy."
A smile creaked at the woman's lips, staring at the Darkchip now seeming to float within the gargoyle's palms. How flattering! She thought, holding back a bit of a giggle. The amusement didn't last long, however. Slowly, Morene's face turned into that of a melancholic expression.
"You are not him," Morene claimed, looking down as if her vowed enemy wasn't there in the first place. She elaborated further, hoping perhaps this "Grigore" fake would prove her wrong anyways.
"He would not have went after such petty sources of power."
Silence followed short. The only thing the huntress could do after that is walk away with a reminder.
In the Omniverse, there are no true traces of home.
Quote:458 words.
Short and sweet is how this refusal went about; Morene walks away from the Darkchip's corrupt influence once more.