It was evident that Keene did not take well to the way Vox spoke, or acted, or moved. He and the slave certainly did not get on well for their first interaction - one was cold as ice and one hot as a flame. That was how he saw it. It wasn't that either of them were flawed in some manner, but that their personalities could only deflect . . . for the moment. He wondered, then, what a master of the tongue would do in this situation. He didn't really wish to make Keene curl into a ball and resolve to avoid him. Their interactions were not yet done - there could be more, today, tomorrow, or even years off. It wasn't good to make such a bewildering impression. So, as Keene seemed to allow his lot in this conversation to banish more and more, Vox prepared to react.
He supposed the strangest part of it all was how people responded to him moving closer. As if he was somehow foolish enough to wage a war against Keene. Considering the way he appeared and the way he acted, it would become clear to any of them that he was not a man of violence. He sought prestige in other ways. For now, that meant not mucking everything up with the Warden, especially after he'd spent so much time and had gotten lucky enough to find his gaze.
"I hope I don't frighten you, Ser Ward." He bowed his head slightly, as if apologizing to the young man. "I appear to have made you rather stiff." Although that was maybe an over-exaggeration of his ability, considering Keene was sort of always stiff. Still, there was a wonder that he held in the back of his mind. His stiffness at the subject could either mean apathy or the fear of certain knowledge that he held. Or mixed parts of both possibilities. Vox wasn't quite sure whether or not Keene was being fully honest, or holding something back. Something about his demeanor was just so . . . difficult to read. If they were alone, he would potentially hypnotize him for the truth. But that was too dangerous to do here, especially with prying eyes. And - he was trying to make himself seem like less of a spy and more like a concerned friend. So, forcing out the truth wasn't ideal for this situation. It was just a wonder as to whether he'd get something of the truth at all, at this rate. Did he already have it?
Keene said yes, which meant that he knew more, right? But he held back. There was a refrain. Shortly afterwards, he added that there was nothing more to discover. So, it was something he knew about already - and was involved with? If he was telling the entire truth, then what he claimed and implied so far was that he didn't attack Telemaran, but knew of it, and knew details that Vox did not. He also believed there was nothing more to find out. If all of that was true, then the logical conclusion was that Keene knew or had an idea of what happened and who did it, but didn't believe it was a threat, and possibly didn't wish to reveal the exact information of the assault. Did that mean it was a companion of his? Someone he was covering for? Either way, it seemed like enough information for the time being. Vox simply wondered how Telemaran would react to this information. Would he lay off of Keene, or wish to pursue more of the truth?
That was his prerogative, at least. Vox could lay easy. "Don't worry, my friend. I will speak to Telemaran only of what you have told me. I believe in your innocence. You don't seem like a liar." What remained was the future of Vox and Keene. His duty was accomplished for the day, but he didn't feel right just leaving it at that. Despite the two of them seeming somehow interested in one another at first, the prevailing truth was that Keene was unilaterally interested while Vox was interested in interrogating him. Despite succumbing to his master's will, it felt like a great breach of the rest of his beliefs to manipulate the Warden like that. And wasn't that funny? He was feeling one way, then the next, his 'dualities' constantly taking over. He was still adjusting to being a slave - being absolutely forced to act a certain way, while trying to retain his usual jovial self. From it all, 'Ser Ward' was probably greatly irritated or simply put into a tough place. So, how did he undo the verbal mess he'd gotten himself into? Picking at strings.
"Let me tell you something interesting, Warden," the man said. His voice was more relaxed, though a little bit playful. "I'm not entirely useless. I do know some magic, and I have sought some knowledge. It was never my life's end-goal, so I'm sure I pale in comparison to you, but there is still intellectual brevity beneath my shoulders." He seemed somehow proud of himself for the few accomplishments he'd made in the field of mind and magic. He used to spend so many years as a young boy trying to discover more and more. He was the only one in his family to have unlocked a single form of spell. All the rest depended on guards. "Maybe in truth I do want to learn more - again. Even just as a hobby. The question I have for you, Keene, is where I would even begin?" With the way Keene asked him, it almost seemed like he wished to teach him. Similarly before, Aoren had phrased such a question in a similar manner. Even back then, he had the cowardice to decline. And why? Maybe it'd be a great adventure . . . at least assuming the Warden cared to engage in it.
If not, then their day was done, and they would return to the environments befitting of their roles.
He supposed the strangest part of it all was how people responded to him moving closer. As if he was somehow foolish enough to wage a war against Keene. Considering the way he appeared and the way he acted, it would become clear to any of them that he was not a man of violence. He sought prestige in other ways. For now, that meant not mucking everything up with the Warden, especially after he'd spent so much time and had gotten lucky enough to find his gaze.
"I hope I don't frighten you, Ser Ward." He bowed his head slightly, as if apologizing to the young man. "I appear to have made you rather stiff." Although that was maybe an over-exaggeration of his ability, considering Keene was sort of always stiff. Still, there was a wonder that he held in the back of his mind. His stiffness at the subject could either mean apathy or the fear of certain knowledge that he held. Or mixed parts of both possibilities. Vox wasn't quite sure whether or not Keene was being fully honest, or holding something back. Something about his demeanor was just so . . . difficult to read. If they were alone, he would potentially hypnotize him for the truth. But that was too dangerous to do here, especially with prying eyes. And - he was trying to make himself seem like less of a spy and more like a concerned friend. So, forcing out the truth wasn't ideal for this situation. It was just a wonder as to whether he'd get something of the truth at all, at this rate. Did he already have it?
Keene said yes, which meant that he knew more, right? But he held back. There was a refrain. Shortly afterwards, he added that there was nothing more to discover. So, it was something he knew about already - and was involved with? If he was telling the entire truth, then what he claimed and implied so far was that he didn't attack Telemaran, but knew of it, and knew details that Vox did not. He also believed there was nothing more to find out. If all of that was true, then the logical conclusion was that Keene knew or had an idea of what happened and who did it, but didn't believe it was a threat, and possibly didn't wish to reveal the exact information of the assault. Did that mean it was a companion of his? Someone he was covering for? Either way, it seemed like enough information for the time being. Vox simply wondered how Telemaran would react to this information. Would he lay off of Keene, or wish to pursue more of the truth?
That was his prerogative, at least. Vox could lay easy. "Don't worry, my friend. I will speak to Telemaran only of what you have told me. I believe in your innocence. You don't seem like a liar." What remained was the future of Vox and Keene. His duty was accomplished for the day, but he didn't feel right just leaving it at that. Despite the two of them seeming somehow interested in one another at first, the prevailing truth was that Keene was unilaterally interested while Vox was interested in interrogating him. Despite succumbing to his master's will, it felt like a great breach of the rest of his beliefs to manipulate the Warden like that. And wasn't that funny? He was feeling one way, then the next, his 'dualities' constantly taking over. He was still adjusting to being a slave - being absolutely forced to act a certain way, while trying to retain his usual jovial self. From it all, 'Ser Ward' was probably greatly irritated or simply put into a tough place. So, how did he undo the verbal mess he'd gotten himself into? Picking at strings.
"Let me tell you something interesting, Warden," the man said. His voice was more relaxed, though a little bit playful. "I'm not entirely useless. I do know some magic, and I have sought some knowledge. It was never my life's end-goal, so I'm sure I pale in comparison to you, but there is still intellectual brevity beneath my shoulders." He seemed somehow proud of himself for the few accomplishments he'd made in the field of mind and magic. He used to spend so many years as a young boy trying to discover more and more. He was the only one in his family to have unlocked a single form of spell. All the rest depended on guards. "Maybe in truth I do want to learn more - again. Even just as a hobby. The question I have for you, Keene, is where I would even begin?" With the way Keene asked him, it almost seemed like he wished to teach him. Similarly before, Aoren had phrased such a question in a similar manner. Even back then, he had the cowardice to decline. And why? Maybe it'd be a great adventure . . . at least assuming the Warden cared to engage in it.
If not, then their day was done, and they would return to the environments befitting of their roles.