[Like a kid, delighted with a new toy — that, or a man chasing his high. The two do not have to be mutually exclusive, and with Thomas, the use of his powers encapsulates the feeling of both. It is a grand, grand release of all the energy that cycles back into him day in and day out, the sort that grants him his power and that awful, awful lucidity. Gone in a few minutes’ time with a dazzling light show every few nights.
It’s routine for those that live here. For years and years now, the sky is lit up vividly bright, and so few of them even care. Lyra is the only one who will watch, sometimes, from her spot near the pond, where his makeshift fireworks glisten across the water.
But that’s fine. As long as he can burn through his powers in a dizzying rush, that’s all that matters. If there’s not a job on hand, the sky will just have to do.]
Aah, it dazzles tonight—
[He remarks to no one in particular. He stops his spinning, looking up and grinning as a strange shimmer seems to trail behind each pop of color. Oh, no, that’s not his; he’s fairly certain it isn’t, anyway. Who, then? Who?
He spins on his heel. He sees no one in the darkness. Well, that’s fine.
He tosses up one more blast of energy, and it explodes in another shimmer. This time, the bright red crimson of a rose blossoming in the sky, made of light and energy. Will it shine and shimmer again? Whose talent is it?]
no subject
It’s routine for those that live here. For years and years now, the sky is lit up vividly bright, and so few of them even care. Lyra is the only one who will watch, sometimes, from her spot near the pond, where his makeshift fireworks glisten across the water.
But that’s fine. As long as he can burn through his powers in a dizzying rush, that’s all that matters. If there’s not a job on hand, the sky will just have to do.]
Aah, it dazzles tonight—
[He remarks to no one in particular. He stops his spinning, looking up and grinning as a strange shimmer seems to trail behind each pop of color. Oh, no, that’s not his; he’s fairly certain it isn’t, anyway. Who, then? Who?
He spins on his heel. He sees no one in the darkness. Well, that’s fine.
He tosses up one more blast of energy, and it explodes in another shimmer. This time, the bright red crimson of a rose blossoming in the sky, made of light and energy. Will it shine and shimmer again? Whose talent is it?]