a. [The apartment feels closed-off, almost - it's obvious people have been living in it, but to someone more used to living alongside nature, it's like there's nothing there at all. It doesn't make it any better that Qilby's lost his ability to sense life-force; with that disconnection, and with the quiet in the apartment, it's easy to feel alone.]
[Whoever is lucky enough to be in 6-1 will find an oddly-dressed older man sitting on the floor with his right arm (on further inspection, his only arm!) held out, focusing very intently on... Something. He counts under his breath - one, two, three in a careful staccato - and looks at his hand expectantly. When that doesn't work, he slumps back on his heels and facepalms.]
It really doesn't work here. [Rude!!.]
f. [Sure as anything, though, the powers he's lost have been replaced by something else - that something else being a cacophony of voices between his temples. It takes a moment for him to sort out the streams of voices, filtering them to what's relevant and what's not. Eventually, he's able to ignore others' idle thoughts. (Wryly, he remembers younger years, when he learned how to filter out people's useless thoughts and get to the meat in real conversation. It's different when they're filtering past your ears and directly into your head.)]
[His voice rings out, too, without him intending it to; it's unpracticed, almost staticky, but the fascination shines through regardless.] Ah, so this is the telepathy they were talking about? It's certainly something. [He traces the signet with his finger, poking at the thickened tissue where metal connects to skin. Someone can probably feel that over the link, too.]
[The suspicious look a man on the street gives the signet doesn't escape him, though. A scarf might help, perhaps?]
h. [Two feet of snow lay outside the door already, with no signs of stopping.]
[He'd just gone to this bookstore to read, really - to get some sort of hold on this world he's been dumped into. (Of course, he'd bought the book... But only after the shopkeeper told him he had to buy it or leave. Sickening, that someone would gate knowledge behind currency.) When he's had his fill, when he's ready to explore again... The door doesn't open. He pushes once, twice, gives it a hard shove with his good shoulder... Nothing.]
[To the person nearby, with a gentle humor in his voice:] We might be stuck here awhile.
wildcard. [want to be a party to Qilby finding out he can turn invisible? want to find him getting into trouble?? hit me at danteroid if you want to talk!]
no subject
[The apartment feels closed-off, almost - it's obvious people have been living in it, but to someone more used to living alongside nature, it's like there's nothing there at all. It doesn't make it any better that Qilby's lost his ability to sense life-force; with that disconnection, and with the quiet in the apartment, it's easy to feel alone.]
[Whoever is lucky enough to be in 6-1 will find an oddly-dressed older man sitting on the floor with his right arm (on further inspection, his only arm!) held out, focusing very intently on... Something. He counts under his breath - one, two, three in a careful staccato - and looks at his hand expectantly. When that doesn't work, he slumps back on his heels and facepalms.]
It really doesn't work here. [Rude!!.]
f.
[Sure as anything, though, the powers he's lost have been replaced by something else - that something else being a cacophony of voices between his temples. It takes a moment for him to sort out the streams of voices, filtering them to what's relevant and what's not. Eventually, he's able to ignore others' idle thoughts. (Wryly, he remembers younger years, when he learned how to filter out people's useless thoughts and get to the meat in real conversation. It's different when they're filtering past your ears and directly into your head.)]
[His voice rings out, too, without him intending it to; it's unpracticed, almost staticky, but the fascination shines through regardless.] Ah, so this is the telepathy they were talking about? It's certainly something. [He traces the signet with his finger, poking at the thickened tissue where metal connects to skin. Someone can probably feel that over the link, too.]
[The suspicious look a man on the street gives the signet doesn't escape him, though. A scarf might help, perhaps?]
h.
[Two feet of snow lay outside the door already, with no signs of stopping.]
[He'd just gone to this bookstore to read, really - to get some sort of hold on this world he's been dumped into. (Of course, he'd bought the book... But only after the shopkeeper told him he had to buy it or leave. Sickening, that someone would gate knowledge behind currency.) When he's had his fill, when he's ready to explore again... The door doesn't open. He pushes once, twice, gives it a hard shove with his good shoulder... Nothing.]
[To the person nearby, with a gentle humor in his voice:] We might be stuck here awhile.
wildcard.
[want to be a party to Qilby finding out he can turn invisible? want to find him getting into trouble?? hit me at