Beautiful-- soft thought and returned smile. All the ways Prehnite thought Tama was delightful to encounter, every single time. Thought the Mau in fact rather exceptional, for all that he rarely spent much time around Guardian cats who didn't currently reside in his own home: like their dearest Xyla, playing as much a safety net as she did a shield for the copious amounts of corrupt Senshi he seemed to collect and cultivate living spaces for under the guise of 'team' (it honestly felt more like a garden at this point.)
To the point where he wondered if he'd have to eventually expand the living quarters in his space -- adding more than just the occasional bit of square footage to his green houses for Jan to rummage through. Prehnite thought, he listened, he shoved the doors wide on one end - briskly followed Tama closely through the halls and sprung open the next set - ignoring the ominous closing and scrabbling of shadow-bound claws behind them. Curious passers and hungry eyes only got passive glances, made him draw a singular blade to pick his fingernails with menacingly more than actually brandish at anything beyond them---
Worse came to it? Iolanthe was a call away, or even less than that. She was a thought, a beckon, a gentle wave of a hand. He felt her presence in the depths the same way she gauged him and all his living, bleeding, green feelings under the moonlight on their randomly scheduled walks above. Entwined with but the barest of buffers between them...
"Oh, and that place did cost us quite a bit, did it not? Between the glitzing ghosts -- My lovely Hylonome still bears a scar from that stupid time-frozen general-beasts spears..." and he eyed Tama's blunted black dagger and smiled, thought he had something similar with a twisted hilt, picked up out of the remains of Galavorns tantrum. He'd forgone everything else, had disliked the glitzy knights and convoluted conversations. The dagger seemed little in the way of compensation for him -- though it did look very lovely stabbed into a slab of oak on his office desk ---"It's bold of you all to try so hard, though. You all must love him, especially since his own actions led to this. Whether the doing of it was known by him or not?
Chosen by him or not. If everything goes beyond south of our borders---you and yours cannot blame yourselves for it," and who was he to talk of grief, of blame? The ultimate hypocrite, crown and title belt holder in one, he thought. The words were still said, out there, living things that needed to be spoken.
"I can't say I'm not intrigued though--I promise to help you save your hide from Youma and Half-youma alike; especially if it pulls some new answers free about how malleable these things truly are. We merge with them so easily, as agents." said with a hint of sarcasm, for all the ways 'easy' could be interpreted. Like - Easily in the same way some people merged with the molten slag pieces of lava and bits of glass in a car crash? Or easily as slapping a limb of a tree in place of a shoulder socket; easy was not the word, but they did indeed merge. He'd seen replacements, eyes, limbs, more. How youma could give of their own to save a life---
Not a senshis. Incompatible those two, like trying to do a transplant and forgetting the antibiotics. The rejections of those were works of abomination and horror. Faustite was no Senshi though, an agent once, a half-breed now, maybe a Knight in the past? Something like that--
"Now, when you say 'save a part of him', do you mean his youma side, his memories? Whatever bits of physical form might be lost in the transference--because he is indeed missing things. I'm sure we've all noticed - those very, very important things--The kind that make me hope one of their asteroids or moons have waiting hospital staff on them." Pace clipped and words clipped and quick to keep up with a Tama on a mission. He wondered if maybe they could store Faustites memories in a vial? Like those of gold that showed glimpses of bygone days and futures past...