Dolce waits placidly as the Emissary clatters across the floor towards him at maximum speeds. Not yet. His hooves remain grounded. His legs stand ready for the one step necessary to prevent being bowled over. Not yet. His spine remains properly straight as he skids to a stop in front of him. Not yet. The Emissary begs for his life. Frantically he pleads, pouring words out as fast as he can think them, asking Dolce - Dolce, of Beri, when once he was the Architect - for the privilege of simply going with him.

There is a pause. The Emissary doesn’t need to breathe. His thoughts and his hearts run too fast to continue. His metal hands grasp at the air. And his metal body completely blocks 20022’s line of sight.

Now.

Now, Dolce's calm mask melts into the weary, but earnest smile, glowing until it wrinkles his nose and lights up his eyes. “It would be no trouble at all. If there are no objections,” he says of the Architect, who would have kicked the Emissary out personally if not for the divine repercussions, and lack of feet. “Then of course, you may come with me.” 

Please, Emissary, do not take it too personally, that he kept you in suspense. You are not safe. He is not safe. There is no reason for him to refuse your claim, and 20022 has an. Opinion, of him, that would make it more surprising if he turned you down. But 20022 does not need to read the message in this smile; it is meant just for you. There’s been enough trouble this day, you ought to have this gift without fear of how it may be used against you.

[i]You have nothing to fear from me. I would have asked you to join us if you had stayed silent.[/i]