07-29-2016, 02:54 PM
[[Hurray, evil Giovanni! *rubs hands with glee*]]
Despite how desperate Asha was to see the Ascendancy's address, she knew her limits. She could feel the dam overflowing, too much too fast, and she needed to seek solace before her ability to cope broke down completely. Elias was a storm cloud she only half saw, perched as she was, ready to turn and bolt. Then the world calmed at a touch. Blanked out completely, in fact. Her heart beat hard with the taste of her own panic and overstimulated senses. It gave her a chance to breathe freely. The gasp of the nearly drowned.
She could feel the perspiration on her face. Her skin was clammy and hot beneath her clothes, her hands clenched fists. Usually it would have taken extrication from the situation entirely to calm down. Asha had always been wary of the people who confounded her abilities - she didn't like not knowing, to have to rely on the uncertainty of expression and intonation. Now she realised what an oasis they could offer her.
She calmed herself with inanities. My name is Ashavari Mehra. I live in Moscow, above a bookshop. Forced her fingers to uncurl, her muscles to relax.
Then suddenly he was there again, the concern in his voice echoed in the waves of feeling that came off him. For once she was glad of the touch; it grounded her, chased out the peripheral emotions before they had the chance to sweep her away.
"It all came back so fast. That's never happened before."
She might have offered a more thorough explanation, but others hovered close by. One of them was empty; she knew that before she turned her gaze to stare at him. Curiosity intensified her expression, at least until he started ordering the crowd to move back. She hated the attention; all those eyes wriggling over her skin. From a child she'd been taught the importance of keeping a low profile - the caution was ingrained. But more than that she shied from the spotlight. Heat suffused her cheeks, burning all the way into her ears.
The other man approached, the one who'd been on the end of the cuffed Russian's fist. He was a strange mix of guilt and duty, tightly wound with a rare compassion. The throbbing pain of his cheek was a distraction, but she still found his words odd. "You could help?"
It was a strange thing to say, to offer. In fact she was not sure what it was he did offer. "But I'm not hurt,
" she clarified quickly. "Just..."
She glanced back at Elias, grasping for an answer. One that wasn't an outright lie. "Overwhelmed. And you're welcome."
Despite how desperate Asha was to see the Ascendancy's address, she knew her limits. She could feel the dam overflowing, too much too fast, and she needed to seek solace before her ability to cope broke down completely. Elias was a storm cloud she only half saw, perched as she was, ready to turn and bolt. Then the world calmed at a touch. Blanked out completely, in fact. Her heart beat hard with the taste of her own panic and overstimulated senses. It gave her a chance to breathe freely. The gasp of the nearly drowned.
She could feel the perspiration on her face. Her skin was clammy and hot beneath her clothes, her hands clenched fists. Usually it would have taken extrication from the situation entirely to calm down. Asha had always been wary of the people who confounded her abilities - she didn't like not knowing, to have to rely on the uncertainty of expression and intonation. Now she realised what an oasis they could offer her.
She calmed herself with inanities. My name is Ashavari Mehra. I live in Moscow, above a bookshop. Forced her fingers to uncurl, her muscles to relax.
Then suddenly he was there again, the concern in his voice echoed in the waves of feeling that came off him. For once she was glad of the touch; it grounded her, chased out the peripheral emotions before they had the chance to sweep her away.
"It all came back so fast. That's never happened before."
She might have offered a more thorough explanation, but others hovered close by. One of them was empty; she knew that before she turned her gaze to stare at him. Curiosity intensified her expression, at least until he started ordering the crowd to move back. She hated the attention; all those eyes wriggling over her skin. From a child she'd been taught the importance of keeping a low profile - the caution was ingrained. But more than that she shied from the spotlight. Heat suffused her cheeks, burning all the way into her ears.
The other man approached, the one who'd been on the end of the cuffed Russian's fist. He was a strange mix of guilt and duty, tightly wound with a rare compassion. The throbbing pain of his cheek was a distraction, but she still found his words odd. "You could help?"
It was a strange thing to say, to offer. In fact she was not sure what it was he did offer. "But I'm not hurt,
" she clarified quickly. "Just..."
She glanced back at Elias, grasping for an answer. One that wasn't an outright lie. "Overwhelmed. And you're welcome."