[Oh it is immediately apparent that Vakama has no trouble recognizing them. Smaller or not, the vibrant glare of annoyance could pin it for him from miles away.]
...Of course it would be you.
[It's flat - less animosity, and more pure exhaustion, even as the air twists with Void Archive's own voice in painful weight.
--foolish
childish
how do you hope to--
Your mind tugs again, a painful jolt like lightning through the skull and neck. This close to Vakama, Void Archive will see his eyes shrink pinpoint for a moment, though he tries to shake it off just as he had done days ago.]
W-we can't just stand here.
Come on, follow me...
[White starts to flake away to metal streets, though the sides of your vision never get any clearer. The smell of smoke and molten metals thickens the air with warmth, the lighting going red and dark under towering cylindrical buildings, walkways that stacked on top of one another, foundries and conveyors, shipping and processing yards fenced up several stories, smokestacks that seem to stretch far off into the sky.
The district is cramped, but empty. Quiet.And every few steps, that pain flickers, and with it, so do the surroundings. Darkened skies. Destroyed catwalks. Enormous towers split down the middle and spilling their molten contents over miles and miles of buildings, the roar of fires and failing structures groaning like the cry of some far off dying animals, all as the sky rumbles.
Every flicker gets worse, like a warning bell in the mind, and it only seems to stop if Vakama halts completely.]
no subject
...Of course it would be you.
[It's flat - less animosity, and more pure exhaustion, even as the air twists with Void Archive's own voice in painful weight.
--foolish
childish
how do you hope to--
Your mind tugs again, a painful jolt like lightning through the skull and neck. This close to Vakama, Void Archive will see his eyes shrink pinpoint for a moment, though he tries to shake it off just as he had done days ago.]
W-we can't just stand here.
Come on, follow me...
[White starts to flake away to metal streets, though the sides of your vision never get any clearer. The smell of smoke and molten metals thickens the air with warmth, the lighting going red and dark under towering cylindrical buildings, walkways that stacked on top of one another, foundries and conveyors, shipping and processing yards fenced up several stories, smokestacks that seem to stretch far off into the sky.
The district is cramped, but empty. Quiet.And every few steps, that pain flickers, and with it, so do the surroundings. Darkened skies. Destroyed catwalks. Enormous towers split down the middle and spilling their molten contents over miles and miles of buildings, the roar of fires and failing structures groaning like the cry of some far off dying animals, all as the sky rumbles.
Every flicker gets worse, like a warning bell in the mind, and it only seems to stop if Vakama halts completely.]