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howtheyshine) wrote2024-02-14 02:39 am
howtheyshine) wrote2024-02-14 02:39 am
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There's a break in the howling darkness. It's all he knows or needs to know. There's a break in his endless, roiling, bleak existence, a crack of light under a door that shouldn't exist, only exists because it's been forced.
There's a break in the darkness, and He leaps for it with abandon. Even oblivion would be better than the harrowing monotony of nightmares. He leaps, and plunges into cold and silence.
For a moment He doesn't know where he is, or maybe more accurately he is nowhere that should be. It's paralyzing, skewering, a death-beyond-death nothingness pain that lasts only for a breath--
--and then his consciousness careens into a field of firefly minds, bodies and beings, places to hide from what follows.
What follows?
He doesn't remember.
All he knows is that one of the fireflies is laced with starlight, and he streaks toward the beautiful shimmer of it without a second thought.
There's a break in the darkness, and He leaps for it with abandon. Even oblivion would be better than the harrowing monotony of nightmares. He leaps, and plunges into cold and silence.
For a moment He doesn't know where he is, or maybe more accurately he is nowhere that should be. It's paralyzing, skewering, a death-beyond-death nothingness pain that lasts only for a breath--
--and then his consciousness careens into a field of firefly minds, bodies and beings, places to hide from what follows.
What follows?
He doesn't remember.
All he knows is that one of the fireflies is laced with starlight, and he streaks toward the beautiful shimmer of it without a second thought.
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[His eyes did.]
There's no way he'll admit that he was afraid of being in the dark again, unable to see. It hasn't fully registered--or it doesn't really matter--that he's left Zerxus that way.
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"Tempus - " Zerxus is cut off with a gentle butt against his cheek. This close, that beak should seem horribly menacing; through these eyes, it simply doesn't. "Fine, fine."
No more arguing. Instead, "You're both going to have to lead me, I - " He's going to have to get dressed, and the words he mutters at that realisation are in another language entirely. (Primordial is great for cursing in, it turns out.)
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Rather, the only power he has is what was given to him. The eyes, with that beak hovering so close to them.
So he'll hang on to whatever spiteful advantage he can get.
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Hey.
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Defiant and petulant are close enough in tone, right?
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That same gentle, solid steadiness, if a bit - stressed and worn, now that he's living with the consequences.
We'll need to figure some things out. We'll need to help each other, if you really want to experience the world.
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[Wh... What do you want to wear?]
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...I should put my platemail on, but that's - here, let me show you.
The floor is smooth and uncluttered, and it's not a long way to his armour stand. There are so, so many pieces.
I'm not sure we're up to this yet. Even if we manage, it will take - a while, and I don't have an explanation.
time to play fast and loose with powers
[Why would it take a while?]
The armor rises in pieces from the stand, straps loosening and ties unwinding where they need to. The god might not have any human sense but vision, but he has others. Zerxus might not be able to see it, but suddenly he can feel the shape of his armor in a way he never has before. Every curve and plane stands out to Zerxus at once, every component of the metal itself, down to the flecks of rust too small to be visible yet. The essence of his armor given an outline in his mind.
[It knows you. It knows where to go.]