And that's the moment when Vrenille sits up straight in his seat, the flirtation gone from his expression and something else there in its place.
It's not just because that remark about flesh and steel toed over a line for him and into the terrain of genuine sadism, genuine danger. It's also the sudden shift, the way that, in a flash, it seems so clear: when Ed spoke of a voice earlier, he wasn't speaking just metaphorically.
The flash of an association comes into Vrenille's mind--someone he knows from his own world who carries "echoes" of the legendary dead around in his head--the assassin from Cantha, the Margonite demon--malevolent wills lurking in a benevolent mind. It doesn't matter that Ed couldn't be less like Aurus; it doesn't matter how literally the comparison fails. Because it's insofar as it fails that some kind of understanding settles, precipitating like condensation on a glass.
His tone is blunt though not accusatory, simply matter of fact. "So, Ed. Who's the other guy?"
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It's not just because that remark about flesh and steel toed over a line for him and into the terrain of genuine sadism, genuine danger. It's also the sudden shift, the way that, in a flash, it seems so clear: when Ed spoke of a voice earlier, he wasn't speaking just metaphorically.
The flash of an association comes into Vrenille's mind--someone he knows from his own world who carries "echoes" of the legendary dead around in his head--the assassin from Cantha, the Margonite demon--malevolent wills lurking in a benevolent mind. It doesn't matter that Ed couldn't be less like Aurus; it doesn't matter how literally the comparison fails. Because it's insofar as it fails that some kind of understanding settles, precipitating like condensation on a glass.
His tone is blunt though not accusatory, simply matter of fact. "So, Ed. Who's the other guy?"