[Oh. It is a "handshake." The priests have done that in front of him before and he understands it is meant to be a greeting.
The shadows move closer, the formless mass enveloping the altar as he slides up to it. The eyes come towards her on a tall, looming bit of his body that could be very generously called a "head." There is no rhyme or reason to his form, little trendril-like limbs forming when and where needed, and otherwise just an inky cloud of silent shadow.
One of the tendrils reaches for her and touches her hand in an approximation of the "handshake." Though his body gives off an icy cold, his touch is strangely warm, tingly, and there is an unexpected weight to him. The tendril wraps around her hand and slides up her arm, missing the "shake" part of it, instead just feeling around her fingers up to her elbow.
It seems to grip her somehow, gently tugging her closer to the altar.]
no subject
The shadows move closer, the formless mass enveloping the altar as he slides up to it. The eyes come towards her on a tall, looming bit of his body that could be very generously called a "head." There is no rhyme or reason to his form, little trendril-like limbs forming when and where needed, and otherwise just an inky cloud of silent shadow.
One of the tendrils reaches for her and touches her hand in an approximation of the "handshake." Though his body gives off an icy cold, his touch is strangely warm, tingly, and there is an unexpected weight to him. The tendril wraps around her hand and slides up her arm, missing the "shake" part of it, instead just feeling around her fingers up to her elbow.
It seems to grip her somehow, gently tugging her closer to the altar.]