The presence of another person has Spite snapping out of his defeated little pout, sniffing the air until his nose leads him on to the doorway like a bloodhound.
"Smells like. Ink and rose water." he hisses in assessment, his head tilting as he realizes that the source of that smell is looking right at him. This never happens.
Lucanis, on the other hand, is making his own assessments of the man, who looks too out-of-place to be anything but another transport like himself. A mage, clearly, by the way he dresses and the staff he carries, but a seemingly helpful one, so far, although the mild talking-to he's being given renders him a bit speechless for a moment in his panic. If Gale can see that Lucanis is tied up, he can probably also see that the man is dressed-ready for a fight. The leather armor and all shapes and sizes of weaponry strapped to it a dead giveaway.
"You'd better work quickly, then." he answers belatedly, his voice different in accent, tone, timbre, and all other matters of difference than the one Spite had spoken in moments earlier. Given the shade is also glaringly purple, it's probably safe to assume it's an entity of its own.
It isn't until Gale addresses the 'projection' in the room that Lucanis realizes that he can see him. People do not see Spite that way. Not even Emmrich, who has played the listening ear to Spite when within close range. His face falls, a wide-eyed look of shock or amazement, and he stammers for a moment before Spite responds, instead.
"HANDS?!" he bellows, leaping forward like an excited animal, fascinated with the mage and practically circling him like a shark.
"Ha--ignore him," he blurts out, panicking, which only causes Spite to growl. "I have plenty of knives. I just can't reach--" he struggles, his hand testing at its straps, fingers reaching and clasping but failing to grasp the handle of a knife strapped to his thigh.
no subject
"Smells like. Ink and rose water." he hisses in assessment, his head tilting as he realizes that the source of that smell is looking right at him. This never happens.
Lucanis, on the other hand, is making his own assessments of the man, who looks too out-of-place to be anything but another transport like himself. A mage, clearly, by the way he dresses and the staff he carries, but a seemingly helpful one, so far, although the mild talking-to he's being given renders him a bit speechless for a moment in his panic. If Gale can see that Lucanis is tied up, he can probably also see that the man is dressed-ready for a fight. The leather armor and all shapes and sizes of weaponry strapped to it a dead giveaway.
"You'd better work quickly, then." he answers belatedly, his voice different in accent, tone, timbre, and all other matters of difference than the one Spite had spoken in moments earlier. Given the shade is also glaringly purple, it's probably safe to assume it's an entity of its own.
It isn't until Gale addresses the 'projection' in the room that Lucanis realizes that he can see him. People do not see Spite that way. Not even Emmrich, who has played the listening ear to Spite when within close range. His face falls, a wide-eyed look of shock or amazement, and he stammers for a moment before Spite responds, instead.
"HANDS?!" he bellows, leaping forward like an excited animal, fascinated with the mage and practically circling him like a shark.
"Ha--ignore him," he blurts out, panicking, which only causes Spite to growl. "I have plenty of knives. I just can't reach--" he struggles, his hand testing at its straps, fingers reaching and clasping but failing to grasp the handle of a knife strapped to his thigh.
"Perhaps you could do the honors?"