( trying to get answers out of aetós or any of his agents would, of course, not be preferable to john — he's chasing after the fear, after all, and it never seems to be nearly as satisfying to extract information out of the tormenters as opposed to their tormented. and the centaur has a point: the vital piece of this puzzle was manon's own experience, what he saw, and that was something they would get nowhere else than from his own mouth.
john screeches to a halt when he reaches the top of the decline, a short string of curses muttered under a lungful of exhaled breath. he's no assassin, no centaur warrior trained in hunting and pursuit — he's already wondering just how easily he'll be able to make it up this hill once all is said and done.
but he doesn't have time to concern himself with that. he's not going to give up the chase now, and so he begins to make his way down the decline deeper into the Tree's roots, though for the Archivist this is fairly slow going. he will likely lag behind everyone else (unless there is anyone else with similarly questionable athletics), though as he begins to near the bottom, he interjects his own reasoning of, ) I - need to hear the rest of your — your—
( the rest is swallowed up by a gasp and a sharp cry of surprise as a smaller root he had considered a trustworthy foothold gives way in a small shower of loose soil. john makes his way down the last fifth or so of the drop half-skidding and half-tumbling, landing with a graceless thump in the earth at the bottom of the cavern. he's fortunate that he's at least made of sterner stuff than he'd been when he was still entirely human, though it doesn't stop the experience from leaving him with a pattern of aches.
alright, then. talking is a distraction, and a dangerous one at that. he pushes everything else out of mind, picking himself up off the ground and continuing to pursue... as best as he can. )
no subject
john screeches to a halt when he reaches the top of the decline, a short string of curses muttered under a lungful of exhaled breath. he's no assassin, no centaur warrior trained in hunting and pursuit — he's already wondering just how easily he'll be able to make it up this hill once all is said and done.
but he doesn't have time to concern himself with that. he's not going to give up the chase now, and so he begins to make his way down the decline deeper into the Tree's roots, though for the Archivist this is fairly slow going. he will likely lag behind everyone else (unless there is anyone else with similarly questionable athletics), though as he begins to near the bottom, he interjects his own reasoning of, ) I - need to hear the rest of your — your—
( the rest is swallowed up by a gasp and a sharp cry of surprise as a smaller root he had considered a trustworthy foothold gives way in a small shower of loose soil. john makes his way down the last fifth or so of the drop half-skidding and half-tumbling, landing with a graceless thump in the earth at the bottom of the cavern. he's fortunate that he's at least made of sterner stuff than he'd been when he was still entirely human, though it doesn't stop the experience from leaving him with a pattern of aches.
alright, then. talking is a distraction, and a dangerous one at that. he pushes everything else out of mind, picking himself up off the ground and continuing to pursue... as best as he can. )