Hythlodaeus is not impartial enough. Neither is Tyler.
[Wait. Wait up. Back up a second.]
And that tis more than I cared to know.
[And also, not Hythlodaeus? He's very surprised.]
We are not. To his reckoning, we are a little more than half at best. Or should I say, *I* and those of us poor mortals of our world are a little more than half, and you are getting painted by the same brush.
[Sigh. He does not want speak of this, it isn't his place, he doesn't know the details, only what Solus told him, and while he trusts that the man was truthful about it, it's still not his place to drag this into the light of day.
Though maybe Steven already knows. Whatever horrific thing he saw in Solus' nightmares--he's willing to bet it's not all the mortal deaths he's seen over the millenia that causes Solus to lose sleep at night.]
To hear him tell it, the souls of the mortal races are the souls of his people, splintered and fractured and faded, spread between the fourteen shards of our once-whole world.
no subject
[Wait. Wait up. Back up a second.]
And that tis more than I cared to know.
[And also, not Hythlodaeus? He's very surprised.]
We are not. To his reckoning, we are a little more than half at best. Or should I say, *I* and those of us poor mortals of our world are a little more than half, and you are getting painted by the same brush.
[Sigh. He does not want speak of this, it isn't his place, he doesn't know the details, only what Solus told him, and while he trusts that the man was truthful about it, it's still not his place to drag this into the light of day.
Though maybe Steven already knows. Whatever horrific thing he saw in Solus' nightmares--he's willing to bet it's not all the mortal deaths he's seen over the millenia that causes Solus to lose sleep at night.]
To hear him tell it, the souls of the mortal races are the souls of his people, splintered and fractured and faded, spread between the fourteen shards of our once-whole world.