[-which he intends to sound more confident than it does, but there's an edge to it he can't fully stifle. He's missed the touch of the shadow, but there's always that underlying fear of what goes along with it-- those who would use its power know well enough what lives within the void, after all. He knows better than most.
Being wrapped in it like this feels like it did before he died. Like digging too deep, like touching something impossible, like seeing too many possibilities all at once and being unable to contain it. Like whispering voices replacing his own thoughts, feeling himself unravel before-- nothing, 'nothing, nothing'.
It mimics his own voice, adds its echo to the cacophony, and pressing his hands to his ears does nothing. It's so loud this close up, all around him, but he can at least still hear Filbo's voice over it, hear him asking to end this.
It goes both ways, he thinks. If he belongs to the void, this still belongs to him in turn.
One hand shoots out, the visible shape of it distorting and lashing out across the stage, the clubbed end of a tentacle taking aim at Filbo's head.]
no subject
[-which he intends to sound more confident than it does, but there's an edge to it he can't fully stifle. He's missed the touch of the shadow, but there's always that underlying fear of what goes along with it-- those who would use its power know well enough what lives within the void, after all. He knows better than most.
Being wrapped in it like this feels like it did before he died. Like digging too deep, like touching something impossible, like seeing too many possibilities all at once and being unable to contain it. Like whispering voices replacing his own thoughts, feeling himself unravel before-- nothing, 'nothing, nothing'.
It mimics his own voice, adds its echo to the cacophony, and pressing his hands to his ears does nothing. It's so loud this close up, all around him, but he can at least still hear Filbo's voice over it, hear him asking to end this.
It goes both ways, he thinks. If he belongs to the void, this still belongs to him in turn.
One hand shoots out, the visible shape of it distorting and lashing out across the stage, the clubbed end of a tentacle taking aim at Filbo's head.]