Davenport’s face falls. His simple state gives him enough mental power for one shallow emotion at a time, and right now it’s annoyance. Something draws him closer to the figure and he kneels down to look at it more closely. He reaches out to take the skull in his hands, pushing back the hood. No recognition, he doesn’t know why he would have expected to recognize a skull, but something like guilt pulls in his heart.
He looks down at the curved handle of the staff, and reaches down to grab hold of it. Several things all happen at once when he does. He feels a jolt of pain shoot up his arm into his chest, so powerful he can’t even scream, he hears the echoing cry of several voices behind him, and then a blank, hazy white shroud overtakes him.
When he opens his eyes, he’s lying flat on his back in a misty white veiled area, fog swirling around him infinitely in every direction, every sound he makes shuffling and breathing amplified and echoed around him. He staggers to his feet, feeling weightless, like he could just float up into the mist and be lost forever. Was this a plane? Where’s the Starblaster, is his crew safe?
It hits him then all at once, and the last decade lands on him like an anvil, oppressive and shattering. He falls to his knees, clutching his chest, a little ache still present there behind his ribs. His crew, the ship– Lucretia. His jaw falls open wordlessly and he doubles over, his forehead touching the invisible, textureless ground, and he s c r e a m s.
A lot happens, very quickly. A touch-- Touch?-- Touch scorches through her like she's never felt before, and it's like power at her fingers she can't quite place, damning, impossible power that builds very quickly and-- It's gone. A bolt, a shot into that hand-- Hand?-- and the dark recedes. It eliminates.
There's a ghostly whisper of water on sand as Lup builds her home from scratch. It's instinct, plain and simple, carving her niche out of the abyss and making it home. Sand, water, beach, sun. The spray and smell of salt in the air. The careful backdrop of paradise birds and there, behind, back, amongst it all-- A quiet song, a burning building, flames slowly licking at the frame in blue and orange and curling pink, towards an eternally cloudless sky. And Lup finds herself where she usually does in this dimension. Home. A towel on the sand where she can be--
But the scream isn't part of her home.
Immediately, she crackles. Her skin burns, her body goes pale at the edges. And she recognizes that scream-- Does she? She does, she has to-- And she runs. She runs until she finds him, curled in on himself, and-- There's a twist. A shout. Her hair turns to ash as it curls down, the sand between her toes more realized and firm than her own limbs, but something in this makes her solidify. Just seeing him makes her--
"Davenport?" The name comes, unbidden, to her lips; And her voice breaks. Cracks. Splinters like she doesn't remember what her voice is. She's stilted as she staggers, taking one step. Two. Clumsy and awkward and skipping a bit as she approaches, hand reaching out, but not touching. He seems too alien to touch-- But fuck if she didn't want to, didn't need to.Where had she gotten that name? How had she gotten that name??
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