[ an object none of them know is so integral, as critical to their well-being as it is is held in Abel's hands; this process is one unfamiliar to him, foreign - and yet strangely intuitive, as if part of him remembers it somewhere deep inside himself. if this is 'magic,' then... suppose his first taste of it is one he enjoys.
something he enjoys decidedly less is the cacophony of bloodshed and violence that has filled the cavern instead of quiet suffering. they've traded one form of misery for another - but this one, at least, will see them away from this place. for good, Abel hopes.
...yes, he hopes a great many things. like that escape will be plausible at all. he's passed along the 'spell' that Xishen taught him, after all - the same Xishen who had ordered their capture. somehow... he still has faith.
blue eyes snap up from where he had been softly frowning into his shard, an intensity of concentration at his brow briefly contorting into surprise at the voice too close for comfort. --ah; someone has managed to sneak up on him (not a difficult task, right now). but any wariness he might have felt is evaporating as he realizes the hushed message passed from the stranger's lips--
Do you need anything?
...and all at once, that light of surprise burns brighter in his eyes-- before there is gratitude, and something rueful. ]
I do, sir--
[ Abel takes a small step, adjusting his posture; the tension there is stress, the sense of time running out, the hope that the injuries his fellows-- and would-be enemies-- have received aren't fatal and can be tended to in short order. (he, too, hasn't managed to avoid getting his fair share of the Kenoma's ire; his face is... well, more bruise than anything else, and his nose is definitely busted. teenagers, man. it's rough for a pacifist out here.) but despite getting his ass thoroughly handed to him, and the fact that he can tell this man isn't 'like him,' brandishing that weapon as it were...
he isn't afraid, and his expression is plaintive. ]
--For you to come with us. It isn't too late-- it's almost finished, and, I-- I can make a grab for you, make it convincing. You can pretend you had no choice in the matter, if that would make it easier, so--
[ so come with them, alright?
whether he's sensed something in this man's spirit, has a gut feeling... it doesn't matter. the offer stands, and Abel seems sincere. ]
🥰
something he enjoys decidedly less is the cacophony of bloodshed and violence that has filled the cavern instead of quiet suffering. they've traded one form of misery for another - but this one, at least, will see them away from this place. for good, Abel hopes.
...yes, he hopes a great many things. like that escape will be plausible at all. he's passed along the 'spell' that Xishen taught him, after all - the same Xishen who had ordered their capture. somehow... he still has faith.
blue eyes snap up from where he had been softly frowning into his shard, an intensity of concentration at his brow briefly contorting into surprise at the voice too close for comfort. --ah; someone has managed to sneak up on him (not a difficult task, right now). but any wariness he might have felt is evaporating as he realizes the hushed message passed from the stranger's lips--
Do you need anything?
...and all at once, that light of surprise burns brighter in his eyes-- before there is gratitude, and something rueful. ]
I do, sir--
[ Abel takes a small step, adjusting his posture; the tension there is stress, the sense of time running out, the hope that the injuries his fellows-- and would-be enemies-- have received aren't fatal and can be tended to in short order. (he, too, hasn't managed to avoid getting his fair share of the Kenoma's ire; his face is... well, more bruise than anything else, and his nose is definitely busted. teenagers, man. it's rough for a pacifist out here.) but despite getting his ass thoroughly handed to him, and the fact that he can tell this man isn't 'like him,' brandishing that weapon as it were...
he isn't afraid, and his expression is plaintive. ]
--For you to come with us. It isn't too late-- it's almost finished, and, I-- I can make a grab for you, make it convincing. You can pretend you had no choice in the matter, if that would make it easier, so--
[ so come with them, alright?
whether he's sensed something in this man's spirit, has a gut feeling... it doesn't matter. the offer stands, and Abel seems sincere. ]