[If she's looking for drama, she just needs to head farther upstate where the Farm is. After this, it'll probably look like a sweet dream, a Mother Goose story with a chance to meet the real Mother Goose. Bigby's heard she's as friendly as her stories say she is, which is more rare than someone like Sarah would ever know or could ever understand. Maybe.
At the mention of the woods, Bigby's face darkens. That definitely has his attention, but he stays silent, almost as if drawn in on himself. If she's talking about the woods he thinks she is, he can imagine why that would be the case. There isn't merely something about them; there's something in them. Something darker and older than her, most likely him, probably everyone and thing in this world. If it really is the home of gods, there's only one place a Great Power that models itself after a wolf would want to live in. Predictably (comfortingly?) enough, it matches up with his own personal pick.
Bigby stays silent throughout the rest of Sarah's spiel, turning her question over in his head, and his lack of a reply should be one in itself. Logically, yes; that's exactly what would happen. You can see that acknowledgment in his eyes when they drift up to meet Sarah's, the subject changing once more to something a little less dire, a little more comfortable.]
... I don't know what would happen. [Because as tempting as it would be to go straight to the next topic, this one's a little too important to put off, and he can't suppress this kind of opinion for very long.] Great Powers — gods, whatever you wanna call them — don't have to draw power from any specific source like a battery, especially an entire world. At least, that's what I always thought. I'm not so sure now.
[Bigby turns the pack over in his hand, mirroring what Sarah's doing with her pen. He's met gods before. He doesn't know everything about every single world that makes up the Homelands, but he knows enough about the important ones. Shouldn't Fellden be one of them? He's trying so hard to think back on everything he's read in the Business Office in his free time, all the records and tomes and books documenting their lost worlds, but nothing's coming to mind. Zilch, zero.
A sigh finally breaks the short silence that's settled over them. Tilting the pack on its side, Bigby collects the cigarette that falls out right as he says, suddenly:]
Asshole or tyrant? [Like he's offering her a choice between peanut butter and chocolate, both things he hates with a passion. It's a very sudden, abrupt question with no context, seemingly forgotten in the moment or deemed unimportant, assumed that she'll figure out what he means.]
no subject
At the mention of the woods, Bigby's face darkens. That definitely has his attention, but he stays silent, almost as if drawn in on himself. If she's talking about the woods he thinks she is, he can imagine why that would be the case. There isn't merely something about them; there's something in them. Something darker and older than her, most likely him, probably everyone and thing in this world. If it really is the home of gods, there's only one place a Great Power that models itself after a wolf would want to live in. Predictably (comfortingly?) enough, it matches up with his own personal pick.
Bigby stays silent throughout the rest of Sarah's spiel, turning her question over in his head, and his lack of a reply should be one in itself. Logically, yes; that's exactly what would happen. You can see that acknowledgment in his eyes when they drift up to meet Sarah's, the subject changing once more to something a little less dire, a little more comfortable.]
... I don't know what would happen. [Because as tempting as it would be to go straight to the next topic, this one's a little too important to put off, and he can't suppress this kind of opinion for very long.] Great Powers — gods, whatever you wanna call them — don't have to draw power from any specific source like a battery, especially an entire world. At least, that's what I always thought. I'm not so sure now.
[Bigby turns the pack over in his hand, mirroring what Sarah's doing with her pen. He's met gods before. He doesn't know everything about every single world that makes up the Homelands, but he knows enough about the important ones. Shouldn't Fellden be one of them? He's trying so hard to think back on everything he's read in the Business Office in his free time, all the records and tomes and books documenting their lost worlds, but nothing's coming to mind. Zilch, zero.
A sigh finally breaks the short silence that's settled over them. Tilting the pack on its side, Bigby collects the cigarette that falls out right as he says, suddenly:]
Asshole or tyrant? [Like he's offering her a choice between peanut butter and chocolate, both things he hates with a passion. It's a very sudden, abrupt question with no context, seemingly forgotten in the moment or deemed unimportant, assumed that she'll figure out what he means.]