[rp] And there is no peace, no true release, no secret place to crawl…
{{OOC: Follows this horrible thread of doom. Just pretend that it's done at the time of this writing.}}
The Vesmier is almost getting used to this.
He's found a quiet space, the same space he used to contact the Doctor and April while they were in Thane's custody, and now he's going to contact someone he himself had part in consigning there. There's a not insignificant amount of trepidation there, all neatly tied up and shoved down into a dark part of his subconscious under the weight of centuries of control.
This is the task he must complete. As always, there is no going back and no undoing what has been done. So he closes his eyes, grounds himself, and reaches out across the city, seeking one specific mental schema which he knows, by this time, quite well.
He... doesn't quite find it. But he finds one which obviously originated as that self-same structure, now putting off all appearance of shambles, damages and reinforcements which weren't there when he altered it, and which send a long line of distress rocketing down to be tied with that trepidation.
One must maintain control.
He identifies her with a quiet ::ping:: at the edge of her consciousness, containing only the information {Vesmier:query(Is this a good time?)}. Concern, the residual anger, his own uncertainty, all of these are meticulously stripped out. Now is the time for meticulous focus, and he can manage that. He only hopes that she still can.
The Vesmier is almost getting used to this.
He's found a quiet space, the same space he used to contact the Doctor and April while they were in Thane's custody, and now he's going to contact someone he himself had part in consigning there. There's a not insignificant amount of trepidation there, all neatly tied up and shoved down into a dark part of his subconscious under the weight of centuries of control.
This is the task he must complete. As always, there is no going back and no undoing what has been done. So he closes his eyes, grounds himself, and reaches out across the city, seeking one specific mental schema which he knows, by this time, quite well.
He... doesn't quite find it. But he finds one which obviously originated as that self-same structure, now putting off all appearance of shambles, damages and reinforcements which weren't there when he altered it, and which send a long line of distress rocketing down to be tied with that trepidation.
One must maintain control.
He identifies her with a quiet ::ping:: at the edge of her consciousness, containing only the information {Vesmier:query(Is this a good time?)}. Concern, the residual anger, his own uncertainty, all of these are meticulously stripped out. Now is the time for meticulous focus, and he can manage that. He only hopes that she still can.