Who is he, really? And what does being that person look like?
Seofar's soul is red and gold, bright, vivid, violent. Serik doesn't think he's going to be the same way. Serik thinks he is probably going to be... softer. He's been around a lot longer; he has accumulated some patience and foresight, maybe even a little wisdom.
He was the person Seofar is, though - he was the person Seofar was a month ago, once - and he doesn't want to forget that. He got where he is by being where he used to be and then going somewhere.
—he's hardly even paying attention when it happens: suddenly his soul is there, a soft grey smudge hovering in the back of his mind. He coaxes it out. It'd be - a fluid spiral, more self-contained than Seofar's blood-red slashing curve, but with that same feel of captured motion. Dynamic, liquid, living. And pale, translucent - threads of fine black smoke flowing in graceful ribbons through a field of barely-there misty white. It's subtler than he expected, but it feels right that way. At the heart of him, he's not an aggressive flamboyant attention-grabbing sort of person; he enjoys playing that role, but if he really cared about having an audience for its own sake he'd kidnap people more often.
How do you even tell when you've got it right, or does it just...
...drop into your hand?
He blinks at his newly manifested soul.
"Well, that was easy," he says, and he conjures it a necklace and goes to see how Siva and Seofar are doing.