"Micolash!" he says quickly and breathlessly, hands clasped together again. "I am...Micolash, once Headmaster of Mensis, once Host of the Nightmare. I am most covetous of all Insight. Even the smallest scrap is to be cherished." He certainly knows how the brain can only retain so much before it starts to liquify and hemphorage out the ears and nose and eyes. But his is altered, tempered, reforged into something more suitable for cosmic knowledge. Sanity is a negligible exchange.

The smile and encouragement of someday having offspring closer to the likes of Kos/m or Mergo makes the sallow scholar blush slightly and once again avert his eyes. Micolash smiles as well, wobbly and embarrassed, skinny fingers hovering near his mouth in a shy gesture. "I did not mean to sound. Presumptuous. I know I am...imperfect. As I am. Human." The two words might as well mean the same thing.