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[ghostlocked]

[It's late when Harlan folds and decides to go to the network for a distraction. He would vastly prefer not to do this, but, well. That's why it's called folding.]

cant sleep.
tell me stories.

[ooc: feel free to threadjack and use this as a sort of storytelling free-for-all!]

Comments

[evocation]

[Okay, no logic-ing him out of it. Kyna doesn't respond, just teleports over, showing up square in the middle of Harlan's living room. She's staring off into the middle distance, utterly unable to see and with no idea where he is.]

Harlan?

[Her voice is raised, just in case he's in another section of the apartment. Hopefully he isn't right next to her.]

[ghostlocked]

[Harlan spends a minute or two fretting when she doesn't immediately text back, but then he hears her in his living room. The sudden noise startles him. A warning would've been nice.

He's about to call out to her, let her come to him, but oh, right. She can't see.

He sighs. He'd prefer to stay in the bathroom. It's dark and secure and he's already cleared out all of the sharp shit. But Kyna being here will prevent him from doing anything destructive. He stands and shuffles out of the bathroom, making his way into the living room.]

Hey. [His voice is a little hoarse. He stands in the doorway for a moment, hesitating. He's not in the mood for physical contact, but, well. He moves toward her, getting just close enough to take her hand and lead her over to the couch. He lets go again once they're settled.]

Are you okay?

[evocation]

[Thank god for that. She would have tripped all over herself trying to follow his voice. For a second, she's tempted to reach for his hand again, but she fights the urge and lets him pull away, just focusing on the question instead.]

I'll get there.

[She's still a little freaked, but she's trying to ride it out, and it isn't quite as terrible when she's around other people. And besides, she's here for him, not for herself.]

Um... Are you?

cw: self harm

[ghostlocked]

No.

[There's no point in downplaying or trying to skirt the question. He's already told her what's up, what's at stake.

He leans back into the couch and picks at his pantleg. He's been trying his best to stop cutting, at least until the event is over. He can't heal himself. He keeps overdoing it. He has too many stitches in his legs as it is.]

I don't know how the fuck the gods can just take magic away. It's not supposed to work like that.

[evocation]

[She wrinkles her nose, considers reaching for his hand again, and decides not to. It's a good thing she has no idea what state his legs are in.]

I know.

[She gets it. Losing her magic was one of the worst things that's happened to her.]

Maybe it's not gone. Maybe it's just... blocked.

[Which is the same, functionally, but Kyna thinks that it being blocked is much better.]

[ghostlocked]

It's gone.

[He says it definitively because it is definitive in his mind. It's mildly annoying, having to explain this to her. She went through this--or something like this. She should know.]

My focus doesn't even register anymore. Michael has it. I don't feel anything.