B. Waver has never had the unique experience of being ill and having malfunctioning magic. Never mind the notion of food poisoning from being on another planet, the sensation of sweat and fever making him feel as if he is in the tropics. The problem is that sweat is now coming off of his upper body as smoke, proper thick smoke, and the only way it is leaking out at present is through his shirt sleeves, his collar, his pant legs.
The coughing he manages is not from the sickness, but rather the cloud gathering in front of him. He can't even vocalize, lest he inhale himself (a stupid thing to begin with), and get so much stuck in his lungs that he might pass out.
D. The sense of telepathy sends Waver sideways for a moment, and he tries to plant his feet in the ground to make sure he doesn't fall over. Against all odds he manages, but his immediate thought is unfortunately broadcasted too.
Get out of my head!
E.
A nice green parka was good, chocolate was better, water was practical. Waver had stuffed it all away in a little sea-green beach house he had claimed for himself. The last of the supplies were an even weirder hodgepodge, and he could not find himself making sense of why these items were selected. He had seen television remotes, things that would be cutting edge in the 1950s, and a few things he regretted setting his sights on.
His luck had proven strange too. One of the books was something in a script that he didn't know, but the illustrations within suggested it was some kind of mystery novel, and he had managed to get himself a handsome messenger bag made of brown leather. It looked a bit like he was playing at an adult, as his stature made the bag seem more mature and him even younger than he already was.
But the bag had compartments, and Waver wasn't going to question that. He stood aside, going through all of them.
"This is surprisingly spacious."
G.
Sleep didn't happen.
Of course it didn't. The sheer enormity of the situation had finally washed over Waver when he tried to settle down for the night, and it left him in a panic. He had a Grail War to finish! Being pulled away from that was unacceptable, unforgivable, and what was the point of running from planet to planet anyway? None of this sounded like proper magecraft!
The part of Waver that craved Rider's wisdom (as much as anyone could call it that) told him the man would encourage him to embrace this. To open his arms and accept the fact that he now had the ability to see worlds beyond anyone's imagination, to go where so many had dreamed of in their lives. The rest of Waver remained stubborn and angry.
Unable to sleep and uncomfortable staring at the ceiling, Waver poked his head out of the door. He hadn't bothered to change out of the clothes he had arrived in, and his eyes scanned the area for more boars.
Certain that they were gone, Waver stepped out into the night air fully, his eyes immediately drawn upwards. The sky shimmered in what he thought was an aurora, but when he squinted, Waver was proven wrong.
The colors came from sloughing skin of something else all together. For a moment, Waver had no words.
When he did, there was only one, standing dumbstruck and looking skyward.
no subject
Waver has never had the unique experience of being ill and having malfunctioning magic. Never mind the notion of food poisoning from being on another planet, the sensation of sweat and fever making him feel as if he is in the tropics. The problem is that sweat is now coming off of his upper body as smoke, proper thick smoke, and the only way it is leaking out at present is through his shirt sleeves, his collar, his pant legs.
The coughing he manages is not from the sickness, but rather the cloud gathering in front of him. He can't even vocalize, lest he inhale himself (a stupid thing to begin with), and get so much stuck in his lungs that he might pass out.
D.
The sense of telepathy sends Waver sideways for a moment, and he tries to plant his feet in the ground to make sure he doesn't fall over. Against all odds he manages, but his immediate thought is unfortunately broadcasted too.
Get out of my head!
E.
A nice green parka was good, chocolate was better, water was practical. Waver had stuffed it all away in a little sea-green beach house he had claimed for himself. The last of the supplies were an even weirder hodgepodge, and he could not find himself making sense of why these items were selected. He had seen television remotes, things that would be cutting edge in the 1950s, and a few things he regretted setting his sights on.
His luck had proven strange too. One of the books was something in a script that he didn't know, but the illustrations within suggested it was some kind of mystery novel, and he had managed to get himself a handsome messenger bag made of brown leather. It looked a bit like he was playing at an adult, as his stature made the bag seem more mature and him even younger than he already was.
But the bag had compartments, and Waver wasn't going to question that. He stood aside, going through all of them.
"This is surprisingly spacious."
G.
Sleep didn't happen.
Of course it didn't. The sheer enormity of the situation had finally washed over Waver when he tried to settle down for the night, and it left him in a panic. He had a Grail War to finish! Being pulled away from that was unacceptable, unforgivable, and what was the point of running from planet to planet anyway? None of this sounded like proper magecraft!
The part of Waver that craved Rider's wisdom (as much as anyone could call it that) told him the man would encourage him to embrace this. To open his arms and accept the fact that he now had the ability to see worlds beyond anyone's imagination, to go where so many had dreamed of in their lives. The rest of Waver remained stubborn and angry.
Unable to sleep and uncomfortable staring at the ceiling, Waver poked his head out of the door. He hadn't bothered to change out of the clothes he had arrived in, and his eyes scanned the area for more boars.
Certain that they were gone, Waver stepped out into the night air fully, his eyes immediately drawn upwards. The sky shimmered in what he thought was an aurora, but when he squinted, Waver was proven wrong.
The colors came from sloughing skin of something else all together. For a moment, Waver had no words.
When he did, there was only one, standing dumbstruck and looking skyward.
"Woah."