[The cuts on his arms, too distinctive—to say nothing of the scars no one has seen. His forearms can be explained as marks of defence, by design, but his biceps—his chest—too deliberate.
(Isaac has more than his blood.)]
No cosmetics,
[he breathes, before the oncoming trial consumes his concentration.
Hand up (shaking, pale) for assistance, no serpent waiting under the leaf, only a moment of dizzy effort and vision bursting white. He sags on the way up, but returns in the next breath to catch himself. Fierce concentration and hissing through his teeth. Stay awake. Stay awake. Leaden limbs forced on by a mind light and tenuous as dandelion seeds—
At the bed, he wants nothing more than to collapse, but sits instead, painstaking, oddly stiff. The throb in his ribcage is a familiar ghost; a jolt or slouch might stir him out of this floating numbness, which he'll need if they're going to move.
He turns his head to look at Alexandrie's shape, her head and shoulders crisp, the rest of her dreamlike. How lucky.
no subject
(Isaac has more than his blood.)]
No cosmetics,
[he breathes, before the oncoming trial consumes his concentration.
Hand up (shaking, pale) for assistance, no serpent waiting under the leaf, only a moment of dizzy effort and vision bursting white. He sags on the way up, but returns in the next breath to catch himself. Fierce concentration and hissing through his teeth. Stay awake. Stay awake. Leaden limbs forced on by a mind light and tenuous as dandelion seeds—
At the bed, he wants nothing more than to collapse, but sits instead, painstaking, oddly stiff. The throb in his ribcage is a familiar ghost; a jolt or slouch might stir him out of this floating numbness, which he'll need if they're going to move.
He turns his head to look at Alexandrie's shape, her head and shoulders crisp, the rest of her dreamlike. How lucky.
To Isaac, then, hooded and bleary,]
We'll go to my room. For convenience.