[The Bond has, indeed, swiftly become something pressing and claustrophobic, stifling and difficult to inhabit. L's hands curl inward, wrists crossing over his ribs when Myr lets him go. There's no spryness or agility after he drank whatever he put together with the arrogance of one who never thought precision in potions was worth as much study as the other arts, the ones that get him in trouble just as well.
A rhythmic chant reverberates in his skull, when Myr asks where he goes after this.
Anywhere, but here. Anywhere, but--
He grips the sleeve of his jacket in his clenched fist, which doesn't actually close all that tightly.]
Go?
[Softer, pleading.]
I'll figure something out.
[I have a plan, I have a design, I have a list of other witches, because who does he think he is? At the present moment, he has no clear ideas, just knows that he will do and say anything to get Myr out that door. And why not today, when everything has gone to hell, anyway? Why not burn it all to the ground, now that fire incarnate himself has returned to Aefenglom.
He glances at the prone, soft, vulnerable wormipede. No; he still can't do it. He still can't quite go that far or that unconscionably ruthless.]
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A rhythmic chant reverberates in his skull, when Myr asks where he goes after this.
Anywhere, but here. Anywhere, but--
He grips the sleeve of his jacket in his clenched fist, which doesn't actually close all that tightly.]
Go?
[Softer, pleading.]
I'll figure something out.
[I have a plan, I have a design, I have a list of other witches, because who does he think he is? At the present moment, he has no clear ideas, just knows that he will do and say anything to get Myr out that door. And why not today, when everything has gone to hell, anyway? Why not burn it all to the ground, now that fire incarnate himself has returned to Aefenglom.
He glances at the prone, soft, vulnerable wormipede. No; he still can't do it. He still can't quite go that far or that unconscionably ruthless.]