[He's jumped himself here, again, through the blistering pain in his head and the claustrophobic pressure above. Something continues to drag him back like it won't let him go. Ignoring the eerie presence of the specters, ignoring the pillars of coral-and-barnacle, ignoring even the red shapes of aquatic life on the distant edge of this hell, Cain makes a line for the spearhead wedged deep into the ground and wound in pale roots. The birds are mysteriously absent.
It takes force of determination and will to keep his mind in place. It won't last forever, but he feels fresher, having left here and returned. The first trip felt like his sense of self was struggling to peel out of his body itself -- a terrifying, disorienting loss of ego. Markus and Fitz are here with him; he doesn't look either one in the eye for whatever they've glimpsed into his psyche. He can't recall the passage of time, or how long he's been cycling through, jumping from one place to another: one mind to another, the city, this place, back to the city... Does it ever end?
So he crouches near the tangled nest of roots, frustrated and mentally exhausted. The weight of movement makes him unwilling to stand right away.]
closed to markus & fitz
It takes force of determination and will to keep his mind in place. It won't last forever, but he feels fresher, having left here and returned. The first trip felt like his sense of self was struggling to peel out of his body itself -- a terrifying, disorienting loss of ego. Markus and Fitz are here with him; he doesn't look either one in the eye for whatever they've glimpsed into his psyche. He can't recall the passage of time, or how long he's been cycling through, jumping from one place to another: one mind to another, the city, this place, back to the city... Does it ever end?
So he crouches near the tangled nest of roots, frustrated and mentally exhausted. The weight of movement makes him unwilling to stand right away.]
Think we could move it somehow?