There's a nod from Emet-Selch as Elidibus makes his decision, but other than that, he says nothing. There is no need to, and though he can tell that Elidibus is working his own preparations even those are nothing he need to bother himself with. (He has, after all, always trusted that Elidibus will take care of that which is required.)
Instead, he turns to his own, the background hum of his own Dark-fueled powers rising as he turns his thoughts to the creations of centuries ago. Reaches back past memories of the flawed echoes he had seen recreated in the technology of Garlemald to long-forgotten Allag, and their miracles of technology melded to flesh.
It looks like nothing, at first. Merely a sense of power coming from Emet-Selch's direction as he pulls holds the concept firm in his mind. (Metal, wrought thin, to serve as skin. A network of cables, to serve as muscles and to carry the signal that would otherwise have animated a natural arm. Joints, at both elbow and each of the fingers, mechanical in nature though otherwise the equal of any flesh-and-bone hand.) One that - as described - might well sound almost impossible to manage, and yet there is no outward sign of difficulty or strain in Emet-Selch's expression. Instead, he merely glances over at Sheppard before adjusting the concept he holds in his mind such that it is more in keeping with the man's natural arm.
And there he holds it, power and concept both held in readiness until Elidibus' signal.
It's only after the crab arm falls away and Elidibus seals it that anything happens. There's a brief nod at Elidibus' words and then Emet-Selch reaches out to join their power together. It's a sudden thing, too, the Eye and the Dark harmonizing into one eerily single note of the knowledge in the darkness depths, of the knowledge that surely must be waiting in those fathomless depths and then barely as soon as Sheppard has had time to react to the sudden loss of his arm than something else is there.
An arm, real and solid, for all that it is very clearly not one of flesh and blood. An impossible arm, and yet one that is, the fact only barely given enough time to be recognized before the magic brushes against where the crab arm has only recently been.
It is not a comfortable feeling, as a chill like unto the darkest depths of the void brush against Sheppard's shoulder. And yet there is no pain. Only that crawling chill, as the magic seeks out the nerves it is to connect to. The sharp almost-sting of nerves being relit, pricking across flesh as the arm anchors itself, tendrils of metal sinking into his skin as painlessly as everything else.
And then... it is done, and with one last dramatic flourish (and a quick tug on the fear Sheppard has so kindly offered) Emet-Selch covers the attachment point and the tendrils both with one last covering of the same metal 'skin' as the rest. No sense in not at least making some after to keep it aesthetically clean.
no subject
Instead, he turns to his own, the background hum of his own Dark-fueled powers rising as he turns his thoughts to the creations of centuries ago. Reaches back past memories of the flawed echoes he had seen recreated in the technology of Garlemald to long-forgotten Allag, and their miracles of technology melded to flesh.
It looks like nothing, at first. Merely a sense of power coming from Emet-Selch's direction as he pulls holds the concept firm in his mind. (Metal, wrought thin, to serve as skin. A network of cables, to serve as muscles and to carry the signal that would otherwise have animated a natural arm. Joints, at both elbow and each of the fingers, mechanical in nature though otherwise the equal of any flesh-and-bone hand.) One that - as described - might well sound almost impossible to manage, and yet there is no outward sign of difficulty or strain in Emet-Selch's expression. Instead, he merely glances over at Sheppard before adjusting the concept he holds in his mind such that it is more in keeping with the man's natural arm.
And there he holds it, power and concept both held in readiness until Elidibus' signal.
It's only after the crab arm falls away and Elidibus seals it that anything happens. There's a brief nod at Elidibus' words and then Emet-Selch reaches out to join their power together. It's a sudden thing, too, the Eye and the Dark harmonizing into one eerily single note of the knowledge in the darkness depths, of the knowledge that surely must be waiting in those fathomless depths and then barely as soon as Sheppard has had time to react to the sudden loss of his arm than something else is there.
An arm, real and solid, for all that it is very clearly not one of flesh and blood. An impossible arm, and yet one that is, the fact only barely given enough time to be recognized before the magic brushes against where the crab arm has only recently been.
It is not a comfortable feeling, as a chill like unto the darkest depths of the void brush against Sheppard's shoulder. And yet there is no pain. Only that crawling chill, as the magic seeks out the nerves it is to connect to. The sharp almost-sting of nerves being relit, pricking across flesh as the arm anchors itself, tendrils of metal sinking into his skin as painlessly as everything else.
And then... it is done, and with one last dramatic flourish (and a quick tug on the fear Sheppard has so kindly offered) Emet-Selch covers the attachment point and the tendrils both with one last covering of the same metal 'skin' as the rest. No sense in not at least making some after to keep it aesthetically clean.