[See, he was listening to all of that, and for the most part in agreement with what there was to agree with. Getting the little bits to fill in what Elidibus couldn't was helpful too, but right as he's taking a bite, right as the food is irrevocably in his mouth, Hythlodaeus says what he does.
And Hades nearly chokes.
First of all, there is so much wrong about that statement—or, potentially wrong—and second of all...well, no it's mainly the first thing. Quickly, he takes a drink of juice to wash down that bite so that he might not truly choke before he can say his own thoughts on the matter.]
—I will hardly be a shade, Hythlodaeus!
[Of course, that's said with a distinct wheeze to his words, a frazzled upward squeak to them too. With another generous gulp of juice, he finds himself better able to speak.]
Even with my demise, there is a marked difference between you and I. You are lacking your soul, I will not be. You are a construct, I am not.
[There's a heavy, momentary pause...and then his gaze falls to his plate, his brow furrowing a little with, not annoyance, but perhaps uncertainty.]
...At least, the me who has been been laid low is not. I cannot truly speak for myself—the one presently here. Though I know I have a soul—at least my eyes had revealed such to me, I cannot be certain that it isn't merely by this world's design that I would be lead to believe such. That what I saw was truly that, and not something else.
no subject
And Hades nearly chokes.
First of all, there is so much wrong about that statement—or, potentially wrong—and second of all...well, no it's mainly the first thing. Quickly, he takes a drink of juice to wash down that bite so that he might not truly choke before he can say his own thoughts on the matter.]
—I will hardly be a shade, Hythlodaeus!
[Of course, that's said with a distinct wheeze to his words, a frazzled upward squeak to them too. With another generous gulp of juice, he finds himself better able to speak.]
Even with my demise, there is a marked difference between you and I. You are lacking your soul, I will not be. You are a construct, I am not.
[There's a heavy, momentary pause...and then his gaze falls to his plate, his brow furrowing a little with, not annoyance, but perhaps uncertainty.]
...At least, the me who has been been laid low is not. I cannot truly speak for myself—the one presently here. Though I know I have a soul—at least my eyes had revealed such to me, I cannot be certain that it isn't merely by this world's design that I would be lead to believe such. That what I saw was truly that, and not something else.