[ His reaction time is slow, delayed in equal parts by both his present condition (more and more, he finds he must centralize his focus, honing in upon his stores of programmable matter in order to prevent them from coalescing into an output which he'll not be able to shape; to control) and awe, for by the time he is able to turn his eyes toward the confrontation at hand, Julius has surged forward, parting two of the looters from the whole of the band. Transfixed, it is not until a shot rings out that Sion's body moves, guided by spatial awareness (the urgent call to guard Julius' back) and muscle memory (the bandit holding the gun engaged and disarmed in a precise economy of motion).
Julius... your ability is something like this...? Such that the Enforcer, wounded by the bandit who has been knocked clean of breath and toppled, face down in the dirt beneath the Director's heel, seems not to notice the injury he's freshly sustained, carrying on with combat which Sion dares not turn his head to glimpse, but hears all the same in the crackle of electricity which dances along Volitional's blade.
That hum of of voltage and of current--...
It is amplified in the moment when the Director realizes he cannot wholly contribute to the conflict (...I need to defend him...) at hand so long as he battles the programmable matter burning through the conduit of his body. And so, he relents, for love of his comrade and want to protect him, choosing to allow the technology to take shape rather than to permit Julius to fight alone.
In the breadth of a moment, the programmable matter actualizes into a form with which Julius might be familiar: walls of light to sequester away the two bandits which remain.
Once, together with a cherished friend, Julius and Sion had been supported by the very same structures as they'd cavorted through the sky, but now--... Something is different, something is amiss. The glittering constructs are glaring to look at, licking and lapping at the prisoners which they confine with heat scalding enough to sear flesh over to waxy white: the programmable matter which should have only immobilized could very well prove to be lethal, if not countermanded in time.
And there are screams, cries of spare us, please! not only from the bandits entrapped and exposed to the merciless blaze of light, but from their companion who remains pinned beneath Sion's boot, the Director's toebox and heel perfectly aligned with the man's spine.
(If you will not come quietly, Julius had cautioned.) ]
I--... [ Much to his horror, the Director finds himself frozen, unable to move as the barrier expands, scarring the surrounding vegetation and land in its encroachment. And as the light eats away at the landscape, so too does it take a toll upon Sion himself, its increasing size and swelling height too taxing to sustain for long without the vessel for the programmable matter burning out.
But this is what not Sion fears the most, but instead: ] I cannot stop it from hurting them, Julius.
no subject
Julius... your ability is something like this...? Such that the Enforcer, wounded by the bandit who has been knocked clean of breath and toppled, face down in the dirt beneath the Director's heel, seems not to notice the injury he's freshly sustained, carrying on with combat which Sion dares not turn his head to glimpse, but hears all the same in the crackle of electricity which dances along Volitional's blade.
That hum of of voltage and of current--...
It is amplified in the moment when the Director realizes he cannot wholly contribute to the conflict (...I need to defend him...) at hand so long as he battles the programmable matter burning through the conduit of his body. And so, he relents, for love of his comrade and want to protect him, choosing to allow the technology to take shape rather than to permit Julius to fight alone.
In the breadth of a moment, the programmable matter actualizes into a form with which Julius might be familiar: walls of light to sequester away the two bandits which remain.
Once, together with a cherished friend, Julius and Sion had been supported by the very same structures as they'd cavorted through the sky, but now--... Something is different, something is amiss. The glittering constructs are glaring to look at, licking and lapping at the prisoners which they confine with heat scalding enough to sear flesh over to waxy white: the programmable matter which should have only immobilized could very well prove to be lethal, if not countermanded in time.
And there are screams, cries of spare us, please! not only from the bandits entrapped and exposed to the merciless blaze of light, but from their companion who remains pinned beneath Sion's boot, the Director's toebox and heel perfectly aligned with the man's spine.
(If you will not come quietly, Julius had cautioned.) ]
I--... [ Much to his horror, the Director finds himself frozen, unable to move as the barrier expands, scarring the surrounding vegetation and land in its encroachment. And as the light eats away at the landscape, so too does it take a toll upon Sion himself, its increasing size and swelling height too taxing to sustain for long without the vessel for the programmable matter burning out.
But this is what not Sion fears the most, but instead: ] I cannot stop it from hurting them, Julius.