[Once again, it's a sound strategy... But one that only works partway. Because while the tendrils retract around Henry's limbs, especially those closest to the brightest orb above his head—as though offended by the very suggestion of a burning ball of light, even if there is no heat—there's nothing that light can do to tame the pool of darkness directly under his body. Where Henry will still sink, slowly, into a shadowy silhouette exactly in his own shape, if he must.
Half his face is already swallowed up in the cold and dark void. Isolating, like a solitary confinement room back at HNL, his brain uselessly supplies. Now, it well and truly feels like he's been sedated, just like back then... One of his hands rise from the muck of the void, fingers flexing weakly, but he can't even dredge up the energy to bark a command out to Sprezzatura to wrench him free.
Despite her own exhaustion, she's just going to have to try.
no subject
Half his face is already swallowed up in the cold and dark void. Isolating, like a solitary confinement room back at HNL, his brain uselessly supplies. Now, it well and truly feels like he's been sedated, just like back then... One of his hands rise from the muck of the void, fingers flexing weakly, but he can't even dredge up the energy to bark a command out to Sprezzatura to wrench him free.
Despite her own exhaustion, she's just going to have to try.
(Or, you know, just leave him there.)]