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18
Who: Walter and anyone
Where: Island
When: 5th, morning
Style: Either
Status: Open
[The change is gradual and starts with faint discomfort when it actually affects him. The onset of something more severe begins much later.
Walter glimpses the network between then: I believe this week some of you might begin feeling a little chilly if you don't have physical contact with someone. He throws the communicator aside after that, and ignores the clatter of the thing against a table as he folds his arms.
He endures through Thursday, but by Friday, his senses have dulled and he doesn't quite see it or his paling complexion.
Something compels him to visit the island that morning. His gait on the way is more languid than that of his usual march, and he moves with a deaf ear to his surroundings, his inattentiveness being cause for the rare bump (or close call) into another denizen of Vatheon. But he cares little for the error and moves on without so much as a glance when it happens. He's strong yet – there's nary a stumble throughout the whole ordeal.
When he reaches shore, Walter sits where the tides reach. Perhaps it is against his better judgment, but his mind is a haze and why should he not sit there in the seawater? It belongs to the sea. He belongs to the sea.
His head rolls to the side in a fit of exhaustion, his ear brushing against the fabric of his attire. He's tired. Odd, considering he has neither fought nor trained recently, and he should be accustomed to a few hours of sleep; but he's tired nonetheless, the feeling reminding him of another time . . . a time he can't recall . . .]
Where: Island
When: 5th, morning
Style: Either
Status: Open
[The change is gradual and starts with faint discomfort when it actually affects him. The onset of something more severe begins much later.
Walter glimpses the network between then: I believe this week some of you might begin feeling a little chilly if you don't have physical contact with someone. He throws the communicator aside after that, and ignores the clatter of the thing against a table as he folds his arms.
He endures through Thursday, but by Friday, his senses have dulled and he doesn't quite see it or his paling complexion.
Something compels him to visit the island that morning. His gait on the way is more languid than that of his usual march, and he moves with a deaf ear to his surroundings, his inattentiveness being cause for the rare bump (or close call) into another denizen of Vatheon. But he cares little for the error and moves on without so much as a glance when it happens. He's strong yet – there's nary a stumble throughout the whole ordeal.
When he reaches shore, Walter sits where the tides reach. Perhaps it is against his better judgment, but his mind is a haze and why should he not sit there in the seawater? It belongs to the sea. He belongs to the sea.
His head rolls to the side in a fit of exhaustion, his ear brushing against the fabric of his attire. He's tired. Odd, considering he has neither fought nor trained recently, and he should be accustomed to a few hours of sleep; but he's tired nonetheless, the feeling reminding him of another time . . . a time he can't recall . . .]
no subject
[She quickly said to Walter.
Right now, she just wanted to find a way to make him happy but...
That wasn't going go that way was it?]
no subject
[And he felt something hot in his chest in spite of the cold for having to establish that. That no matter how many times he said, he wasn't allowed to follow up without the deed being considered unnecessary.
That he was unnecessary.
But that – that – ]
You only need to tell me what.
no subject
The last time she forced Walter to do something, it was something she regretted.
It was difficult but...]
No, it's okay. If you want to stay on the island, that's fine by me!
[Now what?]
no subject
Perhaps one day – ]
Then will you be returning?
no subject
[Mostly because there are a lot of others that might need some help from this curse]