Like you are poisoned oak to the soul. And wherever they are queued, they are not in this Crystal.
[ At least, most of them aren't. She could put her finger on a couple Sisters that would love to deck him flat on principle. But he's had enough for one day; she'll forego the fact that they are not alone. Mostly because she has him all to herself. Something tangible she isn't contractually obligated to put in its place. ]
[ When he acquiesces her reach, a brief smile hooks the corners of her mouth, rather like the owner of a pet who's raised a paw to shake than as if it's any favor to her. Of course now that she's got him, there's not... much to do with him, is there? Besides revel in the sensation and leave him standing awkwardly with their hands linked. Which she isn't entirely opposed to, but he speaks up, and there she can break her peculiar concentration with a snort. ]
Your voice, maybe. Your face hardly enters into that.
[ Unremarkable, maybe. She cannot rightly make a remark on it in the first place. 800 years dissolves most of anything, let alone the proper memory of a human face, though that the map of his leaves anything to be desired is not her true point. It is his voice, somehow, that is incredibly important to him. His childhood, his career, though she does not entirely understand what it is he does with it. Saving his life, she understands far less clearly, though at least it is a concept far more familiar than disk jockeying. But his face, she can stand to reason, plays little part in it. ]
[ Beneath whatever significance it has, it's quite the pleasant thing when he isn't using it for evil. Of that she has no doubt... Sandra raises her free hand gently and innocently toward that voice of his, patting his unmarked cheek before pulling back abruptly. ]
Well, I think we have wasted enough time hiding away in here. The hall seems to have cleared for the most part. Let us save this for another time and finish our business.
[ Out you go. With a touch much firmer than that she gave his face, she catches Richie in the sternum and shunts him back, and with an all-consuming hiss like a snap of the fingers, he'll find himself engulfed body and mind by a jet-black flame, consciousness fleeing the same way it had come. Whenever it pulls itself back together again, he'll find his body crumpled in an elegant heap on the office floor. ]
no subject
[ At least, most of them aren't. She could put her finger on a couple Sisters that would love to deck him flat on principle. But he's had enough for one day; she'll forego the fact that they are not alone. Mostly because she has him all to herself. Something tangible she isn't contractually obligated to put in its place. ]
[ When he acquiesces her reach, a brief smile hooks the corners of her mouth, rather like the owner of a pet who's raised a paw to shake than as if it's any favor to her. Of course now that she's got him, there's not... much to do with him, is there? Besides revel in the sensation and leave him standing awkwardly with their hands linked. Which she isn't entirely opposed to, but he speaks up, and there she can break her peculiar concentration with a snort. ]
Your voice, maybe. Your face hardly enters into that.
[ Unremarkable, maybe. She cannot rightly make a remark on it in the first place. 800 years dissolves most of anything, let alone the proper memory of a human face, though that the map of his leaves anything to be desired is not her true point. It is his voice, somehow, that is incredibly important to him. His childhood, his career, though she does not entirely understand what it is he does with it. Saving his life, she understands far less clearly, though at least it is a concept far more familiar than disk jockeying. But his face, she can stand to reason, plays little part in it. ]
[ Beneath whatever significance it has, it's quite the pleasant thing when he isn't using it for evil. Of that she has no doubt... Sandra raises her free hand gently and innocently toward that voice of his, patting his unmarked cheek before pulling back abruptly. ]
Well, I think we have wasted enough time hiding away in here. The hall seems to have cleared for the most part. Let us save this for another time and finish our business.
[ Out you go. With a touch much firmer than that she gave his face, she catches Richie in the sternum and shunts him back, and with an all-consuming hiss like a snap of the fingers, he'll find himself engulfed body and mind by a jet-black flame, consciousness fleeing the same way it had come. Whenever it pulls itself back together again, he'll find his body crumpled in an elegant heap on the office floor. ]