[Themis is correct. Although Emet-Selch's head lifts just enough to indicate that he has noticed and is aware of the hand now stretched across the table, he makes no move to either take it nor brush it aside. He simply allows it - and the sentiment which inspired the act - to persist.]
[But as Themis's voice grows firm, Emet-Selch sits up straighter to listen, and meets his beseeching gaze. He has half a mind to argue against the point being made - after all he knows he did none of these things, that this other Emet-Selch's actions are no responsibility of his, that he is not beholden to the same course, the same friends, nor aught else he may have been working towards. He has told Themis this before, and several others the very same... But what proves most profound, in this moment, is hearing the ways in which they differ. Rather than a list of things they share, things which sound fantastic and highly unlikely but also somehow plausible, he and this other have now been painted in distinct contrast to one another.]
[And his brother's voice trembles. Emet-Selch's brow wrinkles at that and his attention returns to the table as Themis steadies himself again, his jaw twitching.]
[He has been distant and dismissive, surely. There have been moments where he wished not to be bothered, where he feigned disinterest, when the weight of everything became suffocating - but to go about his day-to-day as if one of his own scarcely existed at all... anger flares deep within his breast. Although Themis is displaying grace about it all, his pain at the rejection is amply clear.]
Sounds like a real genial soul, this man, who lacked the courtesy of even a few simple words to those who shared his abode.
[There's much more he could say, but perhaps more importantly the swirl of thoughts and agitation are beginning to sort themselves out, to settle into something manageable. Not that the agitation is abating, precisely, but there is no question that his friend here speaks the truth. It's with a certain levity that Emet-Selch lays his own arm flat across the other side of the table, clearly nowhere near the other, but a matching gesture all the same. He offers his companion a pointed look.]
Fortunately, I've grown used to your overachieving nature as well as your fervent (and ofttimes embarrassing) declarations of love and goodwill. Whatever lingering concerns you may hold about that, you may safely put from your mind.
As for Byleth... do not expect me to go easy on him if he finds that he cannot hold his tongue. While he has thus far proven to be an inoffensive if inquisitive sort, he does not seem to know when it is appropriate to cease speaking.
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[But as Themis's voice grows firm, Emet-Selch sits up straighter to listen, and meets his beseeching gaze. He has half a mind to argue against the point being made - after all he knows he did none of these things, that this other Emet-Selch's actions are no responsibility of his, that he is not beholden to the same course, the same friends, nor aught else he may have been working towards. He has told Themis this before, and several others the very same... But what proves most profound, in this moment, is hearing the ways in which they differ. Rather than a list of things they share, things which sound fantastic and highly unlikely but also somehow plausible, he and this other have now been painted in distinct contrast to one another.]
[And his brother's voice trembles. Emet-Selch's brow wrinkles at that and his attention returns to the table as Themis steadies himself again, his jaw twitching.]
[He has been distant and dismissive, surely. There have been moments where he wished not to be bothered, where he feigned disinterest, when the weight of everything became suffocating - but to go about his day-to-day as if one of his own scarcely existed at all... anger flares deep within his breast. Although Themis is displaying grace about it all, his pain at the rejection is amply clear.]
Sounds like a real genial soul, this man, who lacked the courtesy of even a few simple words to those who shared his abode.
[There's much more he could say, but perhaps more importantly the swirl of thoughts and agitation are beginning to sort themselves out, to settle into something manageable. Not that the agitation is abating, precisely, but there is no question that his friend here speaks the truth. It's with a certain levity that Emet-Selch lays his own arm flat across the other side of the table, clearly nowhere near the other, but a matching gesture all the same. He offers his companion a pointed look.]
Fortunately, I've grown used to your overachieving nature as well as your fervent (and ofttimes embarrassing) declarations of love and goodwill. Whatever lingering concerns you may hold about that, you may safely put from your mind.
As for Byleth... do not expect me to go easy on him if he finds that he cannot hold his tongue. While he has thus far proven to be an inoffensive if inquisitive sort, he does not seem to know when it is appropriate to cease speaking.