Micolash listens, brow still knitted with mild consternation, but things slot into his logic as Loki continues. Eventually, he makes a soundless 'oh!' with a mouth shaped like the same letter.

"So you are...Pthumerian." Even if he extremely doesn't look like one? Maybe there's a reason for that too. "Or. A race as? Unto them? Inhuman. Long-lived. Seekers and keepers of arcane knowledge and secrets. Communing closely with the Great Ones, guarding their tombs." He keeps looking Loki over and up and down as he talks, searching for any little clues that would tie him to this unusual race. He's pale? But not WHITE pale. Not terribly tall either. Hmmm.

"It seems. Specious to call others to worship you, if you are simply. Yet another race, and not something more lofty." Not that Micolash ever argued against his own cult of personality, but he certainly didn't orchestrate it at least!

Another thought zings errant through Micolash's skull like a ping-pong ball as he recalls other statements made, backing up to an important one he missed! So it might seem a little disjointed when he immediately follows this all up with, "...How do you come back from death. And how many times."