(no subject)

[untempered]

Who: Noric, anyone
When: Day 52, early morning
Where: the common room
What: the fabled priest insanity of old

[It's early enough that most of the inhabitants of the common room right now are the dead batmonkey corpses. One person, though, is standing with one hand pressed to the glass, heedless of the blood stains on it.]

Wrong. This world is wrong ... I can't feel it here. There's nothing...

[Oh goody he's talking to himself in disturbing ways. Engage?]

Comments

[intellectum]

[crap]

[untempered]

[hasn't noticed him, of course.]

How empty it is.

[intellectum]

[grabbing him]

Stop saying that!

[untempered]

[...

...

turns slightly]

The sun is not Her. The land is not Him.

[intellectum]

[flinches]

Stop it.

[untempered]

Are we lost...

[intellectum]

We're not lost!

[untempered]

What is left...?

[intellectum]

[shouts at him]

I'm left!

[untempered]

[stares at him]

[intellectum]

[he pulls his hands back a little]

[untempered]

You... and me...

[intellectum]

[stills]

[untempered]

Pieces in the dark.

[intellectum]

[sharp distinct pain, before he clasps Noric's hands]

We're going back.

[untempered]

[the pain doesn't reach him through the fog.

...he nods, slowly.]

[intellectum]

[okay, time to tug you back to the apartment :|||]

[untempered]

[goes with, for the most part, although he stops every now and then for no discernible reason.]

[intellectum]

[fml]

Noric, do you need anything?

[untempered]

[touches the wall]

It is all different, in this place.

[intellectum]

A little. You need to get used to it.

[untempered]

[he looks incredibly pained, for a moment, though you can't feel it from him. his hand shakes slightly.]

[intellectum]

Calm yourself.

[untempered]

[his hand drops.]

[intellectum]

... [sigh]

You're going to be fine.