[With Filbo's shadow restrained-- he closes his eyes, at the sound of those voices blending with the soft whispers of the void. It all plays out as the shadows slough off of Filbo, as he tries not to think this should have been faster. Should have done more.]
You still have time.
[It's all he can think to say, in response to all of that. He'll go elsewhere, and he'll still have the time to figure this out for himself, if he decides to.
The figure of Filbo's shadow forms before him, and he lifts a hand, the shadow roiling and writhing around him, tendrils forming and dissipating and forming again somewhere else. Curls his fingers, and they tense, ready, the whispering quieter for a moment.
no subject
You still have time.
[It's all he can think to say, in response to all of that. He'll go elsewhere, and he'll still have the time to figure this out for himself, if he decides to.
The figure of Filbo's shadow forms before him, and he lifts a hand, the shadow roiling and writhing around him, tendrils forming and dissipating and forming again somewhere else. Curls his fingers, and they tense, ready, the whispering quieter for a moment.
He flicks his wrist, and they shoot through.]