[ He's made it. He's somewhere safer now and the Darkling doesn't much care for where at the moment--someone closes a door behind him, and it gives the shadow summoner time to lean, one hand against a wall, breathing heavily.
He hates this. He hates how weak he feels, how disgusting he feels, how that rage is simmering, bubbling back up, threatening to burst to the surface as he stares at the ground, focusing on a single point to try to fight the nausea. That fog was unnatural. Were he stronger, had he had an army, he'd try to harness it, and now? Now, he's simply in a stranger's place trying not to throw up. It's unseemly.
It's infuriating.
He looks up one the feeling starts to ebb from him, though his gaze is still dark and cold. ]
What was that? [ It's a hair's breadth away from being a command for the other to answer. ]
no subject
He hates this. He hates how weak he feels, how disgusting he feels, how that rage is simmering, bubbling back up, threatening to burst to the surface as he stares at the ground, focusing on a single point to try to fight the nausea. That fog was unnatural. Were he stronger, had he had an army, he'd try to harness it, and now? Now, he's simply in a stranger's place trying not to throw up. It's unseemly.
It's infuriating.
He looks up one the feeling starts to ebb from him, though his gaze is still dark and cold. ]
What was that? [ It's a hair's breadth away from being a command for the other to answer. ]