An interrogation that will not happen in the moment, but he certainly will ask about at a later date. He held off initially because Dirk did not revisit the topic, had not for the spanning months since he first heard the name, but now...
Now this opened doors.
With understanding, he nods, and likewise sees his error. Most would not care for the mundanities, would rather hear of deeds grand and heroic. But Dirk was different, Dirk is different, and perhaps that's why he's drawn to him. Not that mortals do not care for the humanity of heroes, but they also don't quite care enough.
But Dirk does.
It's an even and slow draw of breath that signals his collected thoughts, that he is ready to speak on the matter. And for all his fondness towards Azem's greatness, there's something deeper yet for the man removed of the title. Of who became Azem, and not what Azem made of the man.
"He loved people." He says with a sense of thoughtful measure to his tone. "Loved the world. There was little he enjoyed more than a feast with his fellows, of sharing stories, concepts, ideas... He loved life, loved the richness of it, the bounty of knowledge and mystery it held..."
His eyes crinkle with the soft smile that adorns his face as he looks on at Dirk, yet there's something about the gaze that would suggest he's...perhaps looking past him. Looking to the past, perhaps. As if seeing something that was beyond the mortal scope—beyond anyone's scope but his.
Then in the next moment, it's gone, but the warmth isn't. Not entirely. His expression is still soft and loving, but the depth of that admiration is decidedly put away.
"He was a traveler, not merely by his duty, but because he so loved the world, that he wished to behold it all. He could read about it, like most Amaurotines did, yet he would choose to witness it with his own eyes. Wished to learn of our neighbors, to learn of their traditions. Their beliefs. Their practices. To likewise observe the natural beauty of the beasts that roamed our star—ever was he a lover of such creatures."
He pauses a moment, his expression struck with thoughtful realization, before settling into a smug, knowing smile.
"So too was he a bit of a warrior—not that wars were ever fought ere The Sundering, but he enjoyed handling weapons. Enjoyed the thrill of combat—of course such methods were reserved for unruly beasts or the concepts he'd dispatch to right aether disturbances..." He trails off for a moment, before continuing with a slightly lower tone, "Unlike most of our kind, he leaned into the violence within our hearts, but it was not fueled by hatred one might otherwise associate. Nay, 'twas his love that guided his blade."
no subject
Now this opened doors.
With understanding, he nods, and likewise sees his error. Most would not care for the mundanities, would rather hear of deeds grand and heroic. But Dirk was different, Dirk is different, and perhaps that's why he's drawn to him. Not that mortals do not care for the humanity of heroes, but they also don't quite care enough.
But Dirk does.
It's an even and slow draw of breath that signals his collected thoughts, that he is ready to speak on the matter. And for all his fondness towards Azem's greatness, there's something deeper yet for the man removed of the title. Of who became Azem, and not what Azem made of the man.
"He loved people." He says with a sense of thoughtful measure to his tone. "Loved the world. There was little he enjoyed more than a feast with his fellows, of sharing stories, concepts, ideas... He loved life, loved the richness of it, the bounty of knowledge and mystery it held..."
His eyes crinkle with the soft smile that adorns his face as he looks on at Dirk, yet there's something about the gaze that would suggest he's...perhaps looking past him. Looking to the past, perhaps. As if seeing something that was beyond the mortal scope—beyond anyone's scope but his.
Then in the next moment, it's gone, but the warmth isn't. Not entirely. His expression is still soft and loving, but the depth of that admiration is decidedly put away.
"He was a traveler, not merely by his duty, but because he so loved the world, that he wished to behold it all. He could read about it, like most Amaurotines did, yet he would choose to witness it with his own eyes. Wished to learn of our neighbors, to learn of their traditions. Their beliefs. Their practices. To likewise observe the natural beauty of the beasts that roamed our star—ever was he a lover of such creatures."
He pauses a moment, his expression struck with thoughtful realization, before settling into a smug, knowing smile.
"So too was he a bit of a warrior—not that wars were ever fought ere The Sundering, but he enjoyed handling weapons. Enjoyed the thrill of combat—of course such methods were reserved for unruly beasts or the concepts he'd dispatch to right aether disturbances..." He trails off for a moment, before continuing with a slightly lower tone, "Unlike most of our kind, he leaned into the violence within our hearts, but it was not fueled by hatred one might otherwise associate. Nay, 'twas his love that guided his blade."