He's listless. This wasn't what he'd signed up for. An echo of a dead city, held under the thrall of fear and oblivion threatening. It was too much like home, too much like the ache of the time before the end. But he has to act.
So he acts. Rhy moves among people, arms full of blankets, throwing extras upon people wherever and whenever he could. Offering them what lingering warmth was possible. He even, though it was never truly safe, would call fire into his hand from time to time, to offer light.
Light and warmth, the only comforts he can give in the darkness.
"They will make it," he tells anyone who will listen, a small tongue of fire cupped in his hand. He doesn't dare offer the fire for very long, it will take up some of the air. But the light... Oh the light. It's like a benediction, and he cannot deny them it.
"They will return," he tells anyone who can hear him. Because it's easier than admitting to his own fear. That he'll die slowly in this place, fading out until there is nothing left for even the magic to call back.
Departure Plans
He shouldn't go. Rhy knows this. But the slow end of all of this was too much. He refused to just stand by and wait. Stand by and watch it all end? No. Action. He's got to be a man of action. Rhy sighs and wraps himself in a blanket as he dozes near the area where people are supposed to meet Annie. There is no way he's missing this. He didn't care what Max and Laurie might say about it. He had to... He had to do this. He had to try.
"Don't tell me not to go," he says when he hears someone approach. Because the argument isn't going to work.
no subject
He's listless. This wasn't what he'd signed up for. An echo of a dead city, held under the thrall of fear and oblivion threatening. It was too much like home, too much like the ache of the time before the end. But he has to act.
So he acts. Rhy moves among people, arms full of blankets, throwing extras upon people wherever and whenever he could. Offering them what lingering warmth was possible. He even, though it was never truly safe, would call fire into his hand from time to time, to offer light.
Light and warmth, the only comforts he can give in the darkness.
"They will make it," he tells anyone who will listen, a small tongue of fire cupped in his hand. He doesn't dare offer the fire for very long, it will take up some of the air. But the light... Oh the light. It's like a benediction, and he cannot deny them it.
"They will return," he tells anyone who can hear him. Because it's easier than admitting to his own fear. That he'll die slowly in this place, fading out until there is nothing left for even the magic to call back.
Departure Plans
He shouldn't go. Rhy knows this. But the slow end of all of this was too much. He refused to just stand by and wait. Stand by and watch it all end? No. Action. He's got to be a man of action. Rhy sighs and wraps himself in a blanket as he dozes near the area where people are supposed to meet Annie. There is no way he's missing this. He didn't care what Max and Laurie might say about it. He had to... He had to do this. He had to try.
"Don't tell me not to go," he says when he hears someone approach. Because the argument isn't going to work.