[ A wordless nod, acknowledgment offered with little else, his digits clasping around the pills like the close of a mouth.
Bookmen have no need of a heart, the voice echoes within his head, bouncing around the caverns of his heart, the beat almost louder than the room itself, but I'm not yet worthy of that title.
Lavi focuses on the staccato rhythm of his chest as he moves around the complex. He doesn't have her touch, her natural capacity to breathe relief in the suffering, but he's gentle. He's careful.
When the medicine runs out and the victims still remain, he digs his nails into his palm, controls his breath. Event proceed in a dizzying mirage, fast forwarding and loosing context from the situation. They're walking through the tunnels again, silent save for the clatter of their footfalls, and then they're at the surface once more, the light blinding and condemning.
All of this he experiences like an outsider in a foreign vessel, detached from the weak body, from the gritting teeth and the trembling hands.
He doesn't wake from the walking daydream (nightmare, all of it a nightmare--) until they're at her door again, and he's meant to say something, anything-- ]
I'll forward the credits when I get them. Isn't much of a payday, but..
[ He waves a hand, flashes a weak smile as he rubs his fingers across his brow. He needs to leave, get some place where he can divorce his tumultuous emotions in safety, but where is that?
no subject
Bookmen have no need of a heart, the voice echoes within his head, bouncing around the caverns of his heart, the beat almost louder than the room itself, but I'm not yet worthy of that title.
Lavi focuses on the staccato rhythm of his chest as he moves around the complex. He doesn't have her touch, her natural capacity to breathe relief in the suffering, but he's gentle. He's careful.
When the medicine runs out and the victims still remain, he digs his nails into his palm, controls his breath. Event proceed in a dizzying mirage, fast forwarding and loosing context from the situation. They're walking through the tunnels again, silent save for the clatter of their footfalls, and then they're at the surface once more, the light blinding and condemning.
All of this he experiences like an outsider in a foreign vessel, detached from the weak body, from the gritting teeth and the trembling hands.
He doesn't wake from the walking daydream (nightmare, all of it a nightmare--) until they're at her door again, and he's meant to say something, anything-- ]
I'll forward the credits when I get them. Isn't much of a payday, but..
[ He waves a hand, flashes a weak smile as he rubs his fingers across his brow. He needs to leave, get some place where he can divorce his tumultuous emotions in safety, but where is that?
He can't seem to remember just now. ]