[Casual, as though this isn't something that might send her flying out the door and into the lava -- he hopes against hope that isn't the case. And yet he knows how visceral anything from that plane can be, himself included. He's used the fear it incites in others to his advantage more than once.
Well. Nothing to do than to try, and see how she takes to it.]
All right, so... look... right there.
[He gestures to the far end of her room, which is suddenly no longer her room, but the dark, isolated, cobwebby clearance of a ruined attic, entwined with strange dark vines. Little beams of moonlight sluice through the slats of the roof and the dusty panes of a window.
But it's not completely isolated, of course.
He ushers forth the illusion of "himself" in his true form, posed in a kneel as the many vines rise and latch onto Vecna's back. With a wet sound, they connect with his sometimes-pulsating flesh and lift him up high -- like a spider at the center of its web.
And like this, the mystery of Henry's shadow is a mystery no longer. His form matches the silhouette she would have seen back then. The tendrils, the larger frame, the clawed, almost gnarled left hand. He seems to be in a trance, like this, but his... everything prevents it from being a truly tranquil scene.
There's something to be said about the fact that he thought she'd take this better at a distance, rather than up close, anyway.]
the way i'm still linking you even tho you're canon familiar
[Casual, as though this isn't something that might send her flying out the door and into the lava -- he hopes against hope that isn't the case. And yet he knows how visceral anything from that plane can be, himself included. He's used the fear it incites in others to his advantage more than once.
Well. Nothing to do than to try, and see how she takes to it.]
All right, so... look... right there.
[He gestures to the far end of her room, which is suddenly no longer her room, but the dark, isolated, cobwebby clearance of a ruined attic, entwined with strange dark vines. Little beams of moonlight sluice through the slats of the roof and the dusty panes of a window.
But it's not completely isolated, of course.
He ushers forth the illusion of "himself" in his true form, posed in a kneel as the many vines rise and latch onto Vecna's back. With a wet sound, they connect with his sometimes-pulsating flesh and lift him up high -- like a spider at the center of its web.
And like this, the mystery of Henry's shadow is a mystery no longer. His form matches the silhouette she would have seen back then. The tendrils, the larger frame, the clawed, almost gnarled left hand. He seems to be in a trance, like this, but his... everything prevents it from being a truly tranquil scene.
There's something to be said about the fact that he thought she'd take this better at a distance, rather than up close, anyway.]