[ It's the progression of rushing footsteps and the sound of something hitting the ground sharply that has yellow robes swaying, whispering in strange motion as he follows it back to its source.
John has stopped wondering about the way people dress after his few encounters, but he does move to crouch—at least, something resembling a crouch—beside the fallen young woman. It's still automatic, taking in her appearance and cataloguing it. Lightning distorts the colour enough he isn't sure of exact hues—he doesn't need to be doing this. He doesn't have anyone to guide. Just... Just act. Just move.
From where he rests, he holds a wrapped hand out in what ought to be her line of sight, the yellow sure to catch what scant lighting there is even if the flesh that peeks past the imperfect wrapping might as well bleed into the dark. ]
Here.
[ Cold opening? Sure, but he isn't heartless. Getting the girl up before anything else makes the most sense. ]
You hearing them, too? [ ...Okay, so one question. And it makes sense, he thinks: he'd done the same. ]
Seeing is Believing
John has stopped wondering about the way people dress after his few encounters, but he does move to crouch—at least, something resembling a crouch—beside the fallen young woman. It's still automatic, taking in her appearance and cataloguing it. Lightning distorts the colour enough he isn't sure of exact hues—he doesn't need to be doing this. He doesn't have anyone to guide. Just... Just act. Just move.
From where he rests, he holds a wrapped hand out in what ought to be her line of sight, the yellow sure to catch what scant lighting there is even if the flesh that peeks past the imperfect wrapping might as well bleed into the dark. ]
Here.
[ Cold opening? Sure, but he isn't heartless. Getting the girl up before anything else makes the most sense. ]
You hearing them, too? [ ...Okay, so one question. And it makes sense, he thinks: he'd done the same. ]