(Lucretia can feel the magic crackle in the air before the missile has fully reached her; she doesn't flinches when the strikes careen over the top of her head, merely draws her staff. She hasn't had to fight anything in years but she still remembers how to do it, and readies a spell as she turns toward the source–
and feels as if the breath has been knocked out of her.)
Taako?
(Her voice is hoarse, hands suddenly clenched hard upon her staff, her heart in her throat. He's missing some of his usual glamour and poise: he looks tired, like his exhaustion goes bone-deep. Lucretia herself knows that feeling all too intimately. He has the Umbra staff pointed casually in her direction. She does not let go of her staff.
And he knows. Lucretia is intensely, horrifyingly aware of it. He is from a point in the future where he has drunk of the second Voidfish, and her plan has failed. Where in time is he from? Is he the only one left?)
Of course I do, (she says, struggling to stay diplomatic, neutral, even though a deep, preoccupying panic is starting to set in.) Why wouldn't I?
no subject
and feels as if the breath has been knocked out of her.)
Taako?
(Her voice is hoarse, hands suddenly clenched hard upon her staff, her heart in her throat. He's missing some of his usual glamour and poise: he looks tired, like his exhaustion goes bone-deep. Lucretia herself knows that feeling all too intimately. He has the Umbra staff pointed casually in her direction. She does not let go of her staff.
And he knows. Lucretia is intensely, horrifyingly aware of it. He is from a point in the future where he has drunk of the second Voidfish, and her plan has failed. Where in time is he from? Is he the only one left?)
Of course I do, (she says, struggling to stay diplomatic, neutral, even though a deep, preoccupying panic is starting to set in.) Why wouldn't I?