[ All he wanted to do was help people, and now here he is.
Amos is pretty lost, as far as these things go — trees haven't ever really been a thing in his life. Ones that can talk, poison, and imprison people even less so. The game itself makes far more sense to him, albeit not in a way he's happy with. Like it's getting off on tormenting them, and he's got a real problem with that — and apparently no way out but to play along.
He's eyeing the weird face in the roots first; shifts his gaze to the Archangel when he speaks, eyes brightening in recognition, attention. That makes sense. Everything he's saying makes sense—
Movement catches the corner of his eye, and Amos turns to stare at Dextera, incredulous. ]
Are you fucking pointing at me?
[ He knows Dextera not by name, but by the fact that he has some weird kind of problem with him for reasons that have never been entirely clear to Amos. To the point of... attacking him in broad daylight. And now jabbing in his direction with intent.
Oh, no. Fuck this. For as little a problem as Amos has had on his end of things, Dextera is maybe now succeeding in getting his attention. In a bad way.
He turns back to the Archangel and Hythlodaeus, arms spread slightly in bewilderment, palms up. They're new here, he's pretty sure — so they're the ones he should be trying to help. Not Dextera. ]
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Amos is pretty lost, as far as these things go — trees haven't ever really been a thing in his life. Ones that can talk, poison, and imprison people even less so. The game itself makes far more sense to him, albeit not in a way he's happy with. Like it's getting off on tormenting them, and he's got a real problem with that — and apparently no way out but to play along.
He's eyeing the weird face in the roots first; shifts his gaze to the Archangel when he speaks, eyes brightening in recognition, attention. That makes sense. Everything he's saying makes sense—
Movement catches the corner of his eye, and Amos turns to stare at Dextera, incredulous. ]
Are you fucking pointing at me?
[ He knows Dextera not by name, but by the fact that he has some weird kind of problem with him for reasons that have never been entirely clear to Amos. To the point of... attacking him in broad daylight. And now jabbing in his direction with intent.
Oh, no. Fuck this. For as little a problem as Amos has had on his end of things, Dextera is maybe now succeeding in getting his attention. In a bad way.
He turns back to the Archangel and Hythlodaeus, arms spread slightly in bewilderment, palms up. They're new here, he's pretty sure — so they're the ones he should be trying to help. Not Dextera. ]
I don't know what his problem is.
[ Technically the truth. ]