[The level of darkness in a powered down spaceship among the stars is... disorienting. Syrlya, too, is forced to run his hand along the wall to attempt to navigate the hallways (as if he knows where he's going anyway) while his other hand rests on the hilt of his blade. Just in case. No idea what's going to pop out of the shadows.
Like a hand that grabs his arm before he can properly focus on the approaching sound in lieu of his vision. He jerks back, his first instinct to teleport away and create space between them--to assess, draw his blade--byt when he tries to trigger the spell... nothing happens. Not even the flash of magic reacting to his will.
So he just stumbles over, smacking into the wall in his botched attempt to pull free. "Ow! I'm a friend!"
Okay, he doesn't know that yet but he's really hoping this is one of the other conscripted and not something about to put a knife in him.
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Like a hand that grabs his arm before he can properly focus on the approaching sound in lieu of his vision. He jerks back, his first instinct to teleport away and create space between them--to assess, draw his blade--byt when he tries to trigger the spell... nothing happens. Not even the flash of magic reacting to his will.
So he just stumbles over, smacking into the wall in his botched attempt to pull free. "Ow! I'm a friend!"
Okay, he doesn't know that yet but he's really hoping this is one of the other conscripted and not something about to put a knife in him.