[The smile on his face lingers for a moment after the door slams before fading into a frown. His thoughts churn as he moves towards his cupboard, mechanically pulling out a dry pair of clothing and being careful not to drip on them. Losing control of his hands-- was that really normal for a visit to the Malnosso? Plus those visions and those aches that Elliot had complained about earlier- and here he pauses to pull the sleeve up his right arm- were those normal as well?
Disturbing?
He straightens his collar (without a mirror, he's never had a mirror, never needed one) and picks up the ribbon, only to pause. Different colours...
He can't see his reflection even on the oft-polished decorative bead and he's not sure he'd even want to study his eyes closer after he'd rejected looking at the world so many years ago. After all, he's gotten so used to it-- hiding away. But in a place such a Luceti, perhaps those strange lights, those strange things that he's always seen...perhaps they didn't exist any more. Maybe...
...no. He'd had to return some day, wouldn't he? It would be stupid to think that this place could be his own special little hiding hole. It's a grim-faced grimace that he wears as he ties the ribbon (a little lopsidedly, but it's difficult to do these things without a mirror) and towels off the last of the water in his hair.
At least, this time, he's a little more careful as he exits his room. Rearranging the books again would be quite-- troublesome. Where are you, Elliot?]
[action]
Disturbing?
He straightens his collar (without a mirror, he's never had a mirror, never needed one) and picks up the ribbon, only to pause. Different colours...
He can't see his reflection even on the oft-polished decorative bead and he's not sure he'd even want to study his eyes closer after he'd rejected looking at the world so many years ago. After all, he's gotten so used to it-- hiding away. But in a place such a Luceti, perhaps those strange lights, those strange things that he's always seen...perhaps they didn't exist any more. Maybe...
...no. He'd had to return some day, wouldn't he? It would be stupid to think that this place could be his own special little hiding hole. It's a grim-faced grimace that he wears as he ties the ribbon (a little lopsidedly, but it's difficult to do these things without a mirror) and towels off the last of the water in his hair.
At least, this time, he's a little more careful as he exits his room. Rearranging the books again would be quite-- troublesome. Where are you, Elliot?]