[hearing those words repeated only makes Dohalim want to comfort the shadow somehow, to card his hand through those long locks of hair, to hold the figure close. he can almost feel the silkiness of the strands between his fingers, soft, and seemingly impossible to tangle, but how he remembers that is a mystery to him. he's never seen this being, he's sure. so why does he want to provide consolation? and more importantly, why does he feel so deeply for this person? the feeling is like a vice grip around his heart, tightening slightly with every word it whispers. but he continues on, following it-- no, him, until he stops.
Dohalim does notice the vines react his presence; a curious thing indeed. even with his affinity for earth astral artes, outside of wherever this place is, the earth and plants around him don't react in such a way. it's hard to ignore how receptive they are being so close to him, and he has to wonder why. another question to add to the long list of already complicated questions that he needs answered. eyes trace the unfamiliar but familiar symbols etched in the stones, as his fingers brush against the carvings.
he looks to the dark room, dark like the deepest obsidian. what could possibly await him beyond the threshold? he's sure it's not some sort of trap, the energy still lacking any malice. there has to be a reason why he's here...
Dohalim starts as he feels the breathed out words wash over his face, hands coming out to try to grasp any part of the spectre, as if hoping to hold onto something tangible, to stop it from disappearing. but he only manages to grasp at thin air; he looks down at his hands for a moment, before looking back up. he doesn't need anything to push him forward, his own feet leading him through the darkened room]
...Hello? Why have you brought me here?
[perhaps it's futile to call out to the darkness. but what more could he do, or say, right now?]
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Dohalim does notice the vines react his presence; a curious thing indeed. even with his affinity for earth astral artes, outside of wherever this place is, the earth and plants around him don't react in such a way. it's hard to ignore how receptive they are being so close to him, and he has to wonder why. another question to add to the long list of already complicated questions that he needs answered. eyes trace the unfamiliar but familiar symbols etched in the stones, as his fingers brush against the carvings.
he looks to the dark room, dark like the deepest obsidian. what could possibly await him beyond the threshold? he's sure it's not some sort of trap, the energy still lacking any malice. there has to be a reason why he's here...
Dohalim starts as he feels the breathed out words wash over his face, hands coming out to try to grasp any part of the spectre, as if hoping to hold onto something tangible, to stop it from disappearing. but he only manages to grasp at thin air; he looks down at his hands for a moment, before looking back up. he doesn't need anything to push him forward, his own feet leading him through the darkened room]
...Hello? Why have you brought me here?
[perhaps it's futile to call out to the darkness. but what more could he do, or say, right now?]