[ His tether mottles with shadow even when he draws nearer. Finally lead out from the alleyway and into the street, Subaru's gaze catches on the bench, the birds and the blooms, Agent Choi being suffocated by the whispers of something even he can't immediately make sense of. Fungal rot blossoms outward in a thieving symphony of shape, latticed and fanning, colors improbable. Contamination, he'd called it. Subaru doesn't know how he feels it but he does feel it, the fleeting silt of being able to touch something but being unable to grasp it in any way that matters.
But because he feels it, he knows their connection is still there. His heart steels over that singular thread of importance as he approaches, more impulse than rationale — instead of letting it fall through his fingers, Subaru seizes his hand.
If Choi is forgetting what shape he takes, Subaru decides to trace his outline by placing it against the sheer willpower of his own.
If this is Sleep's spell, he intends to reverse it. ]
There's something speaking to you. [ He intones, steady and low. His other hand comes to rest against his face, blessedly cool, spiting the blood heat of the moon. ] Shut it out and listen to me. What were you going to say?
no subject
But because he feels it, he knows their connection is still there. His heart steels over that singular thread of importance as he approaches, more impulse than rationale — instead of letting it fall through his fingers, Subaru seizes his hand.
If Choi is forgetting what shape he takes, Subaru decides to trace his outline by placing it against the sheer willpower of his own.
If this is Sleep's spell, he intends to reverse it. ]
There's something speaking to you. [ He intones, steady and low. His other hand comes to rest against his face, blessedly cool, spiting the blood heat of the moon. ] Shut it out and listen to me. What were you going to say?
[ What is familiar? What is important? ]