If Solomon could see Marr's face, he rather thought she would look something almost close to happy. Or maybe relaxed. Marr's soul was a swamp--not the natural kind. It stank, it was murky, it was polluted. There was fear there, a lot of fear; there was disdain and hatred too, all growths of algae and other things Solomon didn't care to identify. The worst part was the way it spread out into the room at the rest of them.
But in some parts of her, the water was something approaching clear. Or at least not as dirty as the rest. She was definitely relieved. Relieved enough to start being sarcastic.
Relieved and very, very annoyed. He couldn't tell at what, exactly, besides the obvious; but he could see the swirl of the current in the swamp moving the foliage.
"You like to complicate things," she said. "It really wasn't as complicated as that. I was just disgruntled. At you, I admit. And at your boyfriend here. And your apprentice. Where is she, by the way? She didn't get fired, did she? That would be a pity. I was enjoying the thought of the pain and suffering she'd get to endure as your partner."
Really. Solomon made a noise somewhere between a snort and a sound of disdain. She wasn't really a very good liar, though she wasn't precisely lying. More like evading the question with sarcasm, and even then, not very well. Solomon, for one, had things to do as an Elder which were much preferable to being in this room with her, and some of them included having fresh souls to look at. Souls that didn't make him want to choke on non-existent fumes.
There was something there, though. Something in that current which reacted in response to Skulduggery's words. His noise drew her attention.
"Ah, yes. Solomon Wreath. A Necromancer. I'm surprised you're lowering yourself to their level. After all, you're just a murderer like me, aren't you?"
Her soul swirled. Solomon tilted his head. "A murderer, yes. But not like you."
"Of course not." The sneer was audible. "You had goals. Whatever they are."
"And you didn't?"
"As I said, I was disgruntled."
"You were hired," Solomon corrected, and smiled at the ripple of the current. It was ... aversive. Like something sitting under the surface, blocking a path. A path to knowledge, or to a memory. "And you don't know who hired you. There's really no need to be shy; we all have days like that. It's a hazard of getting old."
Dexter laughed. Marr's soul snarled. Quite literally; it snarled. Solomon had to fight not to show signs that he was startled by it. It would figure she had crocodiles lurking in there somewhere.
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But in some parts of her, the water was something approaching clear. Or at least not as dirty as the rest. She was definitely relieved. Relieved enough to start being sarcastic.
Relieved and very, very annoyed. He couldn't tell at what, exactly, besides the obvious; but he could see the swirl of the current in the swamp moving the foliage.
"You like to complicate things," she said. "It really wasn't as complicated as that. I was just disgruntled. At you, I admit. And at your boyfriend here. And your apprentice. Where is she, by the way? She didn't get fired, did she? That would be a pity. I was enjoying the thought of the pain and suffering she'd get to endure as your partner."
Really. Solomon made a noise somewhere between a snort and a sound of disdain. She wasn't really a very good liar, though she wasn't precisely lying. More like evading the question with sarcasm, and even then, not very well. Solomon, for one, had things to do as an Elder which were much preferable to being in this room with her, and some of them included having fresh souls to look at. Souls that didn't make him want to choke on non-existent fumes.
There was something there, though. Something in that current which reacted in response to Skulduggery's words. His noise drew her attention.
"Ah, yes. Solomon Wreath. A Necromancer. I'm surprised you're lowering yourself to their level. After all, you're just a murderer like me, aren't you?"
Her soul swirled. Solomon tilted his head. "A murderer, yes. But not like you."
"Of course not." The sneer was audible. "You had goals. Whatever they are."
"And you didn't?"
"As I said, I was disgruntled."
"You were hired," Solomon corrected, and smiled at the ripple of the current. It was ... aversive. Like something sitting under the surface, blocking a path. A path to knowledge, or to a memory. "And you don't know who hired you. There's really no need to be shy; we all have days like that. It's a hazard of getting old."
Dexter laughed. Marr's soul snarled. Quite literally; it snarled. Solomon had to fight not to show signs that he was startled by it. It would figure she had crocodiles lurking in there somewhere.