[ There's a moment's hesitation, but Adrian takes his hand. Sodden as they are, he's still wearing his gloves, so the risk of contact is extremely small, he reasons. Perhaps some part of him needs to be convinced that Marc isn't some strange illusion or revenant, a horrible twist to match the bitterness of bile in the back of his throat. It's just the sort of thing that would happen in Barovia. No victory, no matter how hard-won, could be without some complication.
But the Marc is just — human, probably. Alive as far as he can tell. ]
...Fine. But you'll let me look at it once we're free of this place. [ Marc looks like the sort of person who's seen more than his fair share of trouble over the years, so he doesn't doubt that the man can handle himself; Adrian knows the type. He's spent what feels like half his life stitching them up, and the other half arguing with them until they take the stitches in the first place.
It's for the best, probably. Adrian is still coughing infrequently, each one is little more than a painful annoyance, a stab to the headache between his temples and the rawness of his throat. ]
I'll keep up. [ He knows there isn't time to debate in a place like this. He'll fall into line and follow Marc's lead unless...
He moves his hair out of the way so that he can look through the blackened eye of his familiar, for anything that might be hidden in the dark beyond the flickering lights, or trying to pass entirely unseen. Even if Marc looks back, Adrian doesn't think that he'll mind if the eye looks a bit gruesome, surrounded by dark veins and deep scars, as if it had once been gouged out.
He sees... Nothing. Just deeper patches of shadow.
Shadow that he ought to be able to see through, with his abilities.
Adrian swears under his breath. ] It's the shadows. Can you see them? I think they're moving.
[ His voice is even, not because he's confident, but because he's well acclimated to this sort of horror. If Marc isn't able to avoid them, he'll take the lead, but if he seems versed enough... as he promised, Adrian will keep up. ]
no subject
But the Marc is just — human, probably. Alive as far as he can tell. ]
...Fine. But you'll let me look at it once we're free of this place. [ Marc looks like the sort of person who's seen more than his fair share of trouble over the years, so he doesn't doubt that the man can handle himself; Adrian knows the type. He's spent what feels like half his life stitching them up, and the other half arguing with them until they take the stitches in the first place.
It's for the best, probably. Adrian is still coughing infrequently, each one is little more than a painful annoyance, a stab to the headache between his temples and the rawness of his throat. ]
I'll keep up. [ He knows there isn't time to debate in a place like this. He'll fall into line and follow Marc's lead unless...
He moves his hair out of the way so that he can look through the blackened eye of his familiar, for anything that might be hidden in the dark beyond the flickering lights, or trying to pass entirely unseen. Even if Marc looks back, Adrian doesn't think that he'll mind if the eye looks a bit gruesome, surrounded by dark veins and deep scars, as if it had once been gouged out.
He sees... Nothing. Just deeper patches of shadow.
Shadow that he ought to be able to see through, with his abilities.
Adrian swears under his breath. ] It's the shadows. Can you see them? I think they're moving.
[ His voice is even, not because he's confident, but because he's well acclimated to this sort of horror. If Marc isn't able to avoid them, he'll take the lead, but if he seems versed enough... as he promised, Adrian will keep up. ]