[ Grass, and beneath it, soil. It's such a stark contrast to chilled air rushing past him, sound ricocheting off metal plates, the emptiness of space, the blinding lights of astral nebulae. His vision swims into focus on slender, pink fingers with short, clean nails—he flexes his hands and the ones below him clench between the green blades. They can't be his, must be some kind of hallucination or projection. No, he's dead.
He'd been vaguely aware of something crashing into his face, more focused on the minds and souls he was absorbing, one in particular. Jayce had been there with him, floating above it all, showing him impossible memories from another's mind. His mind. A different mind. It had been so... confusing. He'd finally become fully evolved, above the need for things like limbs and legs, things that had betrayed him for so long that they were obviously better cast aside. He'd transcended above emotion, too, and other useless things that weren't efficient. Humanity needed efficiency to be useful—that was all that mattered in the end, wasn't it? Not someone's beauty or ambition or brilliance, unless it was aimed at a goal and an outcome. ]
No... [ His fingers tear at the grass, fists clenched tight as he brings them to his face and run into a barrier between hands and eyes. For a second he's filled with sickening relief and dizzying terror to consider he was still the same, The Herald, but his hands...
Leaning back, he looks down at the rest of himself and sees pallid, pale skin everywhere he looks. His modesty—does he have any left?—is protected by a scrap of blue fabric tangled around his waist. Relaxing his hands and letting the grass flutter down around him, he once again touches his face and feels a mask jostle but not lift, his fingers unable to catch the edges like it's made of mercury. His breathing quickens, which is illogical given he may be back in his old, broken, useless body, but— ]
Jayce?
[ He calls back on instinct when he hears his name, recognizing the voice calling to him and turning towards it like a sunflower in search of sunlight. ]
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He'd been vaguely aware of something crashing into his face, more focused on the minds and souls he was absorbing, one in particular. Jayce had been there with him, floating above it all, showing him impossible memories from another's mind. His mind. A different mind. It had been so... confusing. He'd finally become fully evolved, above the need for things like limbs and legs, things that had betrayed him for so long that they were obviously better cast aside. He'd transcended above emotion, too, and other useless things that weren't efficient. Humanity needed efficiency to be useful—that was all that mattered in the end, wasn't it? Not someone's beauty or ambition or brilliance, unless it was aimed at a goal and an outcome. ]
No... [ His fingers tear at the grass, fists clenched tight as he brings them to his face and run into a barrier between hands and eyes. For a second he's filled with sickening relief and dizzying terror to consider he was still the same, The Herald, but his hands...
Leaning back, he looks down at the rest of himself and sees pallid, pale skin everywhere he looks. His modesty—does he have any left?—is protected by a scrap of blue fabric tangled around his waist. Relaxing his hands and letting the grass flutter down around him, he once again touches his face and feels a mask jostle but not lift, his fingers unable to catch the edges like it's made of mercury. His breathing quickens, which is illogical given he may be back in his old, broken, useless body, but— ]
Jayce?
[ He calls back on instinct when he hears his name, recognizing the voice calling to him and turning towards it like a sunflower in search of sunlight. ]