[ The words are -- unfamiliar things. Not just in tone, but the fact they are being spoken to at all. They're used to the skittering and clawing of things sluggishly climbing the walls, the occasional murmur of a bug possessed, but otherwise...
...there's another little spark of interest. A dull flicker of curiosity, drawing them out of their (admittedly poor) hiding place. A tiny, masked figure in a ragged cloak, wielding a cracked nail.
Grimm will recognise them for what they are, a vessel. Not the one spoken of by the Pale King, that was for certain.
They stare blankly at him, stopping some way away. There is the slightest hint of something akin to interest, but little else. It's a dispassionate, almost empty kind of observation. ]
no subject
...there's another little spark of interest. A dull flicker of curiosity, drawing them out of their (admittedly poor) hiding place. A tiny, masked figure in a ragged cloak, wielding a cracked nail.
Grimm will recognise them for what they are, a vessel. Not the one spoken of by the Pale King, that was for certain.
They stare blankly at him, stopping some way away. There is the slightest hint of something akin to interest, but little else. It's a dispassionate, almost empty kind of observation. ]