As he watches, Ronan unfolds from his slack position and stands to full height. What do you feel? asks the relentless voice in his head, now an unbreakable habit. And he tries — he really does — to find the energy between all things that must be powering her magic. He can see it with his own eyes. It has to be here.
He is so, so hungry.
When the flame snuffs out, Ronan blinks at the afterimage. He can't tell if the spell ran out because she's bad at it or because this place has been sucked dry. He can't fucking feel anything at all.
As if someone just dumped a bucket of cold water on is head, Ronan scowls and slumps back against the canopy post of his bed. He's in an even worse mood than he was two seconds ago. He might as well have asked her to wave a slice of cake in front of his face and tell him he's not allowed to eat it.
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He is so, so hungry.
When the flame snuffs out, Ronan blinks at the afterimage. He can't tell if the spell ran out because she's bad at it or because this place has been sucked dry. He can't fucking feel anything at all.
As if someone just dumped a bucket of cold water on is head, Ronan scowls and slumps back against the canopy post of his bed. He's in an even worse mood than he was two seconds ago. He might as well have asked her to wave a slice of cake in front of his face and tell him he's not allowed to eat it.
"That's all you got?"