I suppose I'm as ready as I can be, given the circumstances.
[He looks back to the glyph on the ground next to him, his uncertainty still woven into his brow. He closes his eyes, trying his best to push out the mental image of a black streak of rot snaking its way across the ground toward Qubit the moment he activates it. He has to trust this will work, or that, at the very least, Qubit will know how to handle it if something goes horribly wrong. He has no other real choice, and it's better than the alternative.
One more breath to steel himself, in and out.]
May her watchful eye observe us in this endeavor; may not a day go that she does not dream, and that we do not dream in turn. May it be that when we return to the cycle, our dreams are the same.
[That brief prayer said, he activates the glyph; the array lights up with a flash, leaving the cup steaming pleasantly beside him. Carlisle holds his breath as he lifts the mug to his face, inhaling deeply only once it's there—
And he's out like a light. That's nearly literal in the case of his eyes, the overwhelming illumination of them fading to nearly imperceptible glow. His hand trembles as he drops the mug, the rest of his body stiffening bit by bit for a second or two before going completely slack. His torso topples sideways rather than back, leaving him in a crumpled heap as he hits the ground without the slightest bit of resistance.
Said ground does suffer immediately: much like it did with Ami, it fades and withers around him, but the distance this time is limited, not even reaching Qubit's cameras. It seems the plan has been met with some success, but how much there will ultimately be is yet to be determined.
That's if Carlisle ever wakes up again, of course.]
no subject
I suppose I'm as ready as I can be, given the circumstances.
[He looks back to the glyph on the ground next to him, his uncertainty still woven into his brow. He closes his eyes, trying his best to push out the mental image of a black streak of rot snaking its way across the ground toward Qubit the moment he activates it. He has to trust this will work, or that, at the very least, Qubit will know how to handle it if something goes horribly wrong. He has no other real choice, and it's better than the alternative.
One more breath to steel himself, in and out.]
May her watchful eye observe us in this endeavor; may not a day go that she does not dream, and that we do not dream in turn. May it be that when we return to the cycle, our dreams are the same.
[That brief prayer said, he activates the glyph; the array lights up with a flash, leaving the cup steaming pleasantly beside him. Carlisle holds his breath as he lifts the mug to his face, inhaling deeply only once it's there—
And he's out like a light. That's nearly literal in the case of his eyes, the overwhelming illumination of them fading to nearly imperceptible glow. His hand trembles as he drops the mug, the rest of his body stiffening bit by bit for a second or two before going completely slack. His torso topples sideways rather than back, leaving him in a crumpled heap as he hits the ground without the slightest bit of resistance.
Said ground does suffer immediately: much like it did with Ami, it fades and withers around him, but the distance this time is limited, not even reaching Qubit's cameras. It seems the plan has been met with some success, but how much there will ultimately be is yet to be determined.
That's if Carlisle ever wakes up again, of course.]