[ It's been a long day, and an even longer week. The only bright spot of light in this whole hellish experience is the fact that their time in Venera is almost over, and that in the next day or two they'll be packing up to return to Achamoth. Even that's worth almost nothing, the knowledge that things will only continue to spiral further downwards blotting out any joy he might have felt at being allowed a break.
Despite the fear the fills the streets of Venera - or perhaps because of it - a few local restaurants stay open, the waitresses and hostesses shrinking away from him whenever he enters for a poorly timed meal. He's not particularly hungry, appetite whittled to nearly nothing, but he understands on a practical level that he needs the energy to keep going.
He's on his third slow bite when he gets that oh-so-familiar Communion niggle pressing up against his mind and it's with a sigh that he dips his head and pulls out his shard with his free hand. (They've already seen him prowling the streets for the Regent's assigned targets, there's no point hiding his identity now.) He's not at all prepared for what he hears from the other end.
The voice is a surprise and the single word itself moreso, but it's the deafening wave of pain - and behind it, the ripples of anger, exhaustion, fear - that knocks his psyche off-balance. His spoon slams against the table as he bolts upright, the ugly screech of chair scraping against floor leaving echoes in the air behind him as he runs out the door, his stew left to cool and congeal.
He runs for his life, though it isn't his life he's worried about but one far more important. Suddenly he's beyond grateful to have spent the past ten days in Venera, because it means he's that much more comfortable with the streets of the city now, with a much better mental map of where all the major landmarks are located. He remembers the church, with its stained glass windows and its lush garden in the back. Not too far from where he is currently, if his mental map stays true.
He's grateful too that the streets are deserted by this point, because it means he doesn't have to slam bodies out of his way as he presses forward.
As he runs, he fires back messages of his own, a sharp worried edge to his voice. ]
I'll be there soon. What happened?
[ Is happening?? He grits his teeth as he prepares for the worst, trying to speed up his pace. ]
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Despite the fear the fills the streets of Venera - or perhaps because of it - a few local restaurants stay open, the waitresses and hostesses shrinking away from him whenever he enters for a poorly timed meal. He's not particularly hungry, appetite whittled to nearly nothing, but he understands on a practical level that he needs the energy to keep going.
He's on his third slow bite when he gets that oh-so-familiar Communion niggle pressing up against his mind and it's with a sigh that he dips his head and pulls out his shard with his free hand. (They've already seen him prowling the streets for the Regent's assigned targets, there's no point hiding his identity now.) He's not at all prepared for what he hears from the other end.
The voice is a surprise and the single word itself moreso, but it's the deafening wave of pain - and behind it, the ripples of anger, exhaustion, fear - that knocks his psyche off-balance. His spoon slams against the table as he bolts upright, the ugly screech of chair scraping against floor leaving echoes in the air behind him as he runs out the door, his stew left to cool and congeal.
He runs for his life, though it isn't his life he's worried about but one far more important. Suddenly he's beyond grateful to have spent the past ten days in Venera, because it means he's that much more comfortable with the streets of the city now, with a much better mental map of where all the major landmarks are located. He remembers the church, with its stained glass windows and its lush garden in the back. Not too far from where he is currently, if his mental map stays true.
He's grateful too that the streets are deserted by this point, because it means he doesn't have to slam bodies out of his way as he presses forward.
As he runs, he fires back messages of his own, a sharp worried edge to his voice. ]
I'll be there soon. What happened?
[ Is happening?? He grits his teeth as he prepares for the worst, trying to speed up his pace. ]