[ Danse can't feel the sensation of crushing the things, exactly, though there's strangely something a bit like an echo of it, but he can feel the emotions that go along with it, and no small amount of righteous jubilation of his own to see that many enemies taken out in one stroke. ]
Feels good, doesn't it?
[ His voice might still have that same wolfish relish to it even if he were speaking aloud right now, in his own form. But for as much of that vindication as he absorbs, as much vicarious satisfaction as he already feels on his own, he soaks in some of that civilizing influence too, the unfamiliar perspective of someone who doesn't ordinarily take pleasure in fighting. It's strange, to be on a battlefield and have his mind so vividly linked to that of a pacifist.
It pulls him back, makes him look out over the camp with a more restrained tactician's eye again. The enemy's numbers have definitely, visibly thinned now; the other drifters have been just as busy, but he and Arcade have certainly taken out a respectable chunk between the two of them, and the energy of the devourers' deaths is giving a much-needed second wind when he would ordinarily be exhausted and limping too heavily to run. ]
You think you're up for one more round?
[ He's shifted away from that instinct to bark orders, and certainly from being feral enough to just take off running again. ]
no subject
[ Danse can't feel the sensation of crushing the things, exactly, though there's strangely something a bit like an echo of it, but he can feel the emotions that go along with it, and no small amount of righteous jubilation of his own to see that many enemies taken out in one stroke. ]
Feels good, doesn't it?
[ His voice might still have that same wolfish relish to it even if he were speaking aloud right now, in his own form. But for as much of that vindication as he absorbs, as much vicarious satisfaction as he already feels on his own, he soaks in some of that civilizing influence too, the unfamiliar perspective of someone who doesn't ordinarily take pleasure in fighting. It's strange, to be on a battlefield and have his mind so vividly linked to that of a pacifist.
It pulls him back, makes him look out over the camp with a more restrained tactician's eye again. The enemy's numbers have definitely, visibly thinned now; the other drifters have been just as busy, but he and Arcade have certainly taken out a respectable chunk between the two of them, and the energy of the devourers' deaths is giving a much-needed second wind when he would ordinarily be exhausted and limping too heavily to run. ]
You think you're up for one more round?
[ He's shifted away from that instinct to bark orders, and certainly from being feral enough to just take off running again. ]