overazielous:

“Oh, yes.” Kain said from where he was seated at a long table. The tone with which he said it could be mistaken for sarcasm. A frenzied scrabbling was heard opposite him and Raziel very suddenly popped up above the table top, his bangs fluttering about his temples. You realize Kain’s tone was more exasperated in preparation for Raziel’s enthusiasm.

“The arts? The Razielim were the highest regard in patronage of the arts. My High Library was the crowning jewel of my territory.” The wraith spread his claws across the marble as he leaned forward. The emotion in his voice was more than enough to be infectious for all its joy and the vacuum of sadness waiting just behind it. “Although I am now aware of the ironic foreshadowing of the Emperor’s Wing.”

“Ah, yes. The Emperor’s Wing.” Kain recalled without looking up from his parchment.

“That was the top floor of the library where I tediously collected pre-empircal history and artifacts. Only Kain and I were allowed in access. I thought I was just being thorough but I may very well have cultivated the information leading to my own demise. So thank you for that, Kain.” Raziel spoke very proudly of his collection even whilst mentioning his death. Across from him Kain had merely made some sound in acknowledgement.

“The Empire had a healthy appreciation for the arts that only waned the last couple centuries. Melchiah and I kept each other’s interest in utilitarian arts. He was quite the artist. Indeed the Melchiahim were a very hands on, productive people in general. Zephonim territory always did give rise to the most creative types. Their royal theater troupe… I’ve forgotten the name of it now. It was phenomenal.” His jubilant expression was such a rare occurrence it was almost more painful than anything to be privy to.

“A thousand years is much too long to pick definitive favorites. Latest I was fond of the turn Rahabim art was taking. The heavy tattoos and piercings of sailing humans began to trickle upwards through the coast-minders into pockets of aristocracy and captains… I remember seeing the tattooed hoods and pierced crests of the devolved Rahabim upon my dark return…and absent-mindedly thinking it suited them.” Raziel trailed off in memory.

“You were always a prince of the arts, Raziel.” Kain remarked.

“Is that such a dreadful trope?”

“It is a telling trope.”