Gunto ceased his swimming motion as Kamalia began to speak. His fears could well have been true; secrets, knowledge, power... a far cry from his standard day to day interactions with the denizens of Zeltiva. He had met people who dabbled in magics... mostly those who came under his knife, but still. They had all strained horribly with their magic, and shown outward signs of their own creation's defiance as it ate away at them. To overgive. Yet her display had been both wondrous and terrifying to him. Wonderous, due to the massive effect her djed had been able to create with such a short amount of time... and terrifying, because she had been completely comfortable with it. Enjoyed it. Gunto had grown to feel that when a wizard began to scream and ramble as they struggled, bleeding from their nostrils and burning bright red in feverish insanity that it was the rational part of their mind waging war against the monster they were unleashing. Kamalia showed no signs of this. It was as if the monster presided not in a desolate chamber within her, locked away harshly until needed... but atop a grand throne that glimmered in gold, ever present and constantly whispering in her ear. Her magic was powerful. So too was it's influence over her. He was not so ignorant, despite the savage aesthetic and grumbling demeanor. This was what occupied in his mind as an unsettling silence descended between them. Kamalia's outstretched arm beckoned, while Gunto floated in the deceptively warm water some ten or fifteen feet away. "Sahova, you say..." Gunto said, turning his head back and taking in the sky above him. The land of the Nuit, an undead tomb for those abominations who would insult the cycle of life. What good could come of a trip to that place? Yet, as he waded in the icy blue, a thought occurred to him. A better way to set foot in there domain without the consequence of his views on the Nuit speaking for him, he could not find. He was but a guardian, and his presence would not be questioned. That, and... he had made a contract. A piece of paper, thought but a small thing, was indeed a symbol of his word. He was brutal, cruel, and unforgiving to those who stood before him as enemies. Dishonorable to those who would request his aid, with his word given? Gunto of the Shadow Hand may have appeared to be but a typical sellsword to the fair Konti, but he was not. Where his honor was bound, he would not seek to escape. So the Myrian suddenly submerged, flipping his body backwards and powering himself through the underwater currents that pounded him. To Kamalia, he would disappear beneath the still churning waters. A few breaths would pass before his crimson and white splashed arm would explode from beneath the waves, taking a hold of Kamalia's forearm and gripping it firmly. It was a Myrian greeting, an honorable greeting. A symbol of respect. His head came into view, a wet mop of black hair obscuring his eyes. "My word is not to be questioned. You will have to accept my continued presence at your side... I would not shame Myri with retreat, be it in battle or in business." Gunto said, meeting her odd gaze with wide open eyes. His other arm burst from the sea, gripping the edge of the dock. Yet he made no attempt to free himself from the water's hold. "If you can, pull me from this water Kamalia." Yet Gunto wondered, did she have the strength to pull him up? Would she even try? Or was her magic so all consuming that physical strain wouldn't even occur to her, and the sweet bliss that it brought would overshadow the notion. It was a test, a way for Gunto to gain insight into Kamalia's nature. The Shadow Hand were killers, murderers, and executioners... but they were not always without tact. |