"Both?" Cecil sighs, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Right now, I get a jumble. I'm a broadband receiver, if that terminology means anything to you. I get scraps of prophecy, bad feelings, sometimes wholesale hijacking of my voicebox to deliver messages. The hope is that with an arcane focus, I'll be more able to...well...focus. To choose when and what I'm receiving to some degree."
"Yes, I am quite familiar with radio technology. I can see why you would want a way to focus your talent. Random scraps aren't very helpful and losing control of your own senses is intolerable at all times."
"Intolerable?" It comes out as a squeak, a pained little sound from someone who hasn't had any choice but to tolerate it. Repeatedly. Until the loss of control led to his death.
Sympathy creeps into his expression, folding the creases of his brow lower over his hooded eyes.
"Yes. No one should tolerate that. But that isn't an accusation against you. It's clear you have little choice. I'll do these carvings for you, free of charge, and hope that it helps give you the control you ought to have."
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(no subject)
29/5/24 23:45 (UTC)(no subject)
12/6/24 01:52 (UTC)(no subject)
12/6/24 02:27 (UTC)...twice.
(no subject)
12/6/24 02:36 (UTC)"Yes. No one should tolerate that. But that isn't an accusation against you. It's clear you have little choice. I'll do these carvings for you, free of charge, and hope that it helps give you the control you ought to have."
(no subject)
12/6/24 02:38 (UTC)