["Graceful" is a generous descriptor. But he's always been pretty good with rolling with the punches. ...metaphorically or otherwise. He's not all that sure what to do for her when she asks him to concentrate in her direction. But it must have worked, because for a second there—he seems to black out.
Just for a second. The facsimile of the ground (such as it is. was.) is back under his feet before he can even realize that the feeling had been missing it. He blinks hard to clear his vision. Hands at his sides, the Transistor—for once, nowhere in reach. He opens his mouth. Takes a breath that smells like embers. And—]
...Um.
[Eloquent. He takes a step back to take in the surroundings—the field below, the strange stained-glass sigils. Landing finally on the not unfamiliar shape of Sandra in front of him. (Or...unfamiliar, but only in that she seems more and more alive this way. Like she had when they met.)
no subject
Just for a second. The facsimile of the ground (such as it is. was.) is back under his feet before he can even realize that the feeling had been missing it. He blinks hard to clear his vision. Hands at his sides, the Transistor—for once, nowhere in reach. He opens his mouth. Takes a breath that smells like embers. And—]
...Um.
[Eloquent. He takes a step back to take in the surroundings—the field below, the strange stained-glass sigils. Landing finally on the not unfamiliar shape of Sandra in front of him. (Or...unfamiliar, but only in that she seems more and more alive this way. Like she had when they met.)
Just...give him a sec. At a loss—]
...What—
[Nevermind.]