They’re the muscle. Follow their lead if you can manage it.
[He doesn’t even mean for if you can manage it to have a sting behind it when he responds to Louis, it just comes out that way — this is just how Henry is when he isn’t trying to be amicable, when bitter determination underlines everything he says and does.
And every warm body they can help to move the boulder is helpful, because he will be of no use. He knows this, begrudgingly. His strength was never rooted in the physical (as a child, he was teased for his gangliness; as an adult, he’s still long-limbed, more lithe than muscular), but he can be of use elsewhere.
Case in point:]
Can’t you feel it? [If he is singular, even amongst Summoned who possess strange abilities, well. Wouldn’t that be par the course. He scoffs, the thought flitting though his mind.] The fungi that grows here has its own consciousness. It wants to subsume us all into its— [What’s a good word?] —hivemind.
[And believe him, he knows. He had to fight tooth and claw to detach himself from their all-encompassing influence, even though he had done little more than brush his mind against its consciousness during a brief period in which his powers had flickered to life again.]
And runs all around us. Along the floor, beneath it. All along the walls. And beyond— [Yes, he’s using that word purposefully again, a tinge of facetiousness.] —the boulder. It led me here. I can sense it because I'm telepathic.
And if this is a way out, I’m not stopping until we find a way past it.
[He is not going to die here, his body twisted up with strange growths, a fever eating away at his mind and body, seeing things, hearing things, his powers just a dying ember when they used to be a conflagration. He won’t. He won’t be a prisoner again, he won't.]
no subject
[He doesn’t even mean for if you can manage it to have a sting behind it when he responds to Louis, it just comes out that way — this is just how Henry is when he isn’t trying to be amicable, when bitter determination underlines everything he says and does.
And every warm body they can help to move the boulder is helpful, because he will be of no use. He knows this, begrudgingly. His strength was never rooted in the physical (as a child, he was teased for his gangliness; as an adult, he’s still long-limbed, more lithe than muscular), but he can be of use elsewhere.
Case in point:]
Can’t you feel it? [If he is singular, even amongst Summoned who possess strange abilities, well. Wouldn’t that be par the course. He scoffs, the thought flitting though his mind.] The fungi that grows here has its own consciousness. It wants to subsume us all into its— [What’s a good word?] —hivemind.
[And believe him, he knows. He had to fight tooth and claw to detach himself from their all-encompassing influence, even though he had done little more than brush his mind against its consciousness during a brief period in which his powers had flickered to life again.]
And runs all around us. Along the floor, beneath it. All along the walls. And beyond— [Yes, he’s using that word purposefully again, a tinge of facetiousness.] —the boulder. It led me here. I can sense it because I'm telepathic.
And if this is a way out, I’m not stopping until we find a way past it.
[He is not going to die here, his body twisted up with strange growths, a fever eating away at his mind and body, seeing things, hearing things, his powers just a dying ember when they used to be a conflagration. He won’t. He won’t be a prisoner again, he won't.]