( being deprived of a sense is hardly a pleasant situation at the best of times, but the silence of the tomb was so, so similar to this suffocating, muffled quiet—
there's still light all around him, though, and Red Wine's grip is solid, reassuring, and real. he has to cling onto these things rather than listen to the unsteady thoughts, the crazy whispers in his mind.
they're not real. no one is leaving him. they wouldn't...
the screeches of the... plant? creature? thing? it isn't a Fallen Angel, but it sure isn't any sort of animal or plant native to Tierra either. well, no matter. its screeches are almost a blessing, a noise he can cling to as he yanks one out, clinging to the sensations of noise and life around him as firmly as he grabs the plant before tossing it into the basket.
it's repetitive, quiet work, and Century Egg is good at that. it isn't quite the fighting for which he was built and intended, but it's familiar and easy, and soon enough he seems to be into the swing of it, and the spinning thoughts quiet themselves beneath a cacophony of yelling plants. )
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there's still light all around him, though, and Red Wine's grip is solid, reassuring, and real. he has to cling onto these things rather than listen to the unsteady thoughts, the crazy whispers in his mind.
they're not real. no one is leaving him. they wouldn't...
the screeches of the... plant? creature? thing? it isn't a Fallen Angel, but it sure isn't any sort of animal or plant native to Tierra either. well, no matter. its screeches are almost a blessing, a noise he can cling to as he yanks one out, clinging to the sensations of noise and life around him as firmly as he grabs the plant before tossing it into the basket.
it's repetitive, quiet work, and Century Egg is good at that. it isn't quite the fighting for which he was built and intended, but it's familiar and easy, and soon enough he seems to be into the swing of it, and the spinning thoughts quiet themselves beneath a cacophony of yelling plants. )