Samandriel stretched, arms high above his head as he rose up on his toes, clearly still settling some into his limbs. Nothing he was going to say would dissuade the Spartan from his ideas of the power of fear when he could get so much further with love. It was a much more effective weapon though the Spartans never stooped to wield it.
His wings stretched out behind him again as he turned around and faced Carrick from where he'd wandered a few feet away from the bed. "Intent means absolutely nothing in this world," he said easily. "What matters is what is. You are his light. He will not stray to it even if you are the flame that will destroy his moth."
He tipped his head to the side, studying Carrick curiously for a moment, before smiling, slow and gentle practically glowing with warmth and the light within him. "Goodnight, Helios." He didn't let Carrick get another word in before he was simply gone. They could go round and round the same arguments for centuries and get nowhere with each other. Carrick had a lot to think about, and their lives were hardly going to be diverged for all that long.