[Whatever Silco did, it’s clearly thrown Vander off his groove. The same emotions propelling him forward are there, but they feel… unanchored. Like there is a purpose to them, but it’s somehow out of reach. There had been a reason they were fighting once more—as if they ever need a reason, these days—but trying to dig for it is like trying to summon a word that’s on the tip of his tongue, but just out of mind.
It’s distracting enough that it’s all he can do to yank his hand back from that next knife swipe, and it lets Silco put some distance between them just as quickly. Vander’s hand reaches up to his Shard, brows furrowing as he stares Silco down and tries to puzzle out exactly what it is he had taken from him.
He can almost, almost see what that little shard of crystal in Silco’s hand represents. Knows it’s important, knows he can’t let it stay in his grasp. So in that long moment Vander does rush forward, freehand making a grab for it—but it’s too late. It’s reduced to sand as quickly as his feet can move him, an odd feeling of finality in it that hangs heavy in his chest at the sight of it. Vander still tries to make a grab for Silco, wherever he can—but there’s no swing of his other fist. Not yet.
There’s anger in his expression, but his voice mainly carries disbelief.]
no subject
It’s distracting enough that it’s all he can do to yank his hand back from that next knife swipe, and it lets Silco put some distance between them just as quickly. Vander’s hand reaches up to his Shard, brows furrowing as he stares Silco down and tries to puzzle out exactly what it is he had taken from him.
He can almost, almost see what that little shard of crystal in Silco’s hand represents. Knows it’s important, knows he can’t let it stay in his grasp. So in that long moment Vander does rush forward, freehand making a grab for it—but it’s too late. It’s reduced to sand as quickly as his feet can move him, an odd feeling of finality in it that hangs heavy in his chest at the sight of it. Vander still tries to make a grab for Silco, wherever he can—but there’s no swing of his other fist. Not yet.
There’s anger in his expression, but his voice mainly carries disbelief.]
What have you done?