Who: RJL (lumenrelegandus) When: After this Where: Entry Room Format: Paragraph What: Ow. Warnings: This'll be widely noticeable, inside the building and out.
[She frowns slightly. Not that she expects the Door to have any regard for where and when it pulls its chosen. The last thing she remembers is dying, after all.]
[And then there was this.]
A battle ...in your world? [nodding toward the apartment building] Or a battle ...up there? [Or both?]
[Rising up, and attempting to help him to his feet, and offering a shoulder to lean on, should he need it. His emptiness hangs about him, over him like a mantle - in the air heavy and thick as mist. It is not unlike the emptiness she feared before she'd died.]
Lean on me if you wish. I'm stronger than I look.
[ooc: She'll walk with him quietly if he'll let her lead. It's mostly a straight shot down a long street and on the very edges of where the middle class district turns into upper class. The house itself is similar to this, only it's the last in its row, and there's a small alley just beside. The stairs there are narrow and wrought iron, and allow entrance into an apartment on the second floor.]
[He lets out a defeated breath and lets his head fall on her shoulder.
He proves able to walk, without too much strength required from her. Facing this new world-or himself in it-is what he's not prepared to do just yet. He maintains physical contact and keeps his eyes nearly closed, allowing her to lead him blindly; completely unbefitting all his past experience.
He'd accept whatever happened next. She could be a veela, a siren, rusalka, any other incarnation of death herself. He was hoping she was.
It was, of course, selfish and irresponsible to allow himself to fall into the hands of anyone in case they could hijack his powers. But at this point... no prospect of coercion seemed at all threatening, and from the hollowness he felt, he doubted he had any powers left. -and if he did, didn't want them.
Everyone he loved would be ashamed of him. He went ahead because everyone he loved was dead.]
[She frowns slightly. Not that she expects the Door to have any regard for where and when it pulls its chosen. The last thing she remembers is dying, after all.]
[And then there was this.]
A battle ...in your world? [nodding toward the apartment building] Or a battle ...up there? [Or both?]
[Rising up, and attempting to help him to his feet, and offering a shoulder to lean on, should he need it. His emptiness hangs about him, over him like a mantle - in the air heavy and thick as mist. It is not unlike the emptiness she feared before she'd died.]
Lean on me if you wish. I'm stronger than I look.
[ooc: She'll walk with him quietly if he'll let her lead. It's mostly a straight shot down a long street and on the very edges of where the middle class district turns into upper class. The house itself is similar to this, only it's the last in its row, and there's a small alley just beside. The stairs there are narrow and wrought iron, and allow entrance into an apartment on the second floor.]
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He proves able to walk, without too much strength required from her. Facing this new world-or himself in it-is what he's not prepared to do just yet. He maintains physical contact and keeps his eyes nearly closed, allowing her to lead him blindly; completely unbefitting all his past experience.
He'd accept whatever happened next. She could be a veela, a siren, rusalka, any other incarnation of death herself. He was hoping she was.
It was, of course, selfish and irresponsible to allow himself to fall into the hands of anyone in case they could hijack his powers. But at this point... no prospect of coercion seemed at all threatening, and from the hollowness he felt, he doubted he had any powers left. -and if he did, didn't want them.
Everyone he loved would be ashamed of him. He went ahead because everyone he loved was dead.]
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