[The touch is sudden, and Markus isn’t sure how to translate the jolt that he feels alone his spine. A startled sensation, wrought with the edges of adrenaline, courtesy of the frustration bubbling at his core. But more than that, even as he turns to look at the ashen-haired woman, something pulses in time with a blue glow emanating from his chest, and all that he feels becomes hers.
(Indignation, anger, dread, that cold feeling of standing in a reality where the worst has come to pass, and the fire of a rebellious spirit decrying all of it.)
But there’s something more controlled from Ciri’s end — her emotions are more kindly shared, and quells his own spirit enough to where tension drains from his features, his shoulders, and he spares her a glance that loses its harshness.]
This isn’t something that I can just slink away from.
[Though there is a measuring of the actual reality of the situation; that he is in no position to do more than just spout unpopular opinions, which is frustrating unto itself.]
ay gurl
(Indignation, anger, dread, that cold feeling of standing in a reality where the worst has come to pass, and the fire of a rebellious spirit decrying all of it.)
But there’s something more controlled from Ciri’s end — her emotions are more kindly shared, and quells his own spirit enough to where tension drains from his features, his shoulders, and he spares her a glance that loses its harshness.]
This isn’t something that I can just slink away from.
[Though there is a measuring of the actual reality of the situation; that he is in no position to do more than just spout unpopular opinions, which is frustrating unto itself.]