[It's not unusual that Henry's in a good mood when he gets back home- it was his default mode of operation, really- but this time he had cause. His powers weren't working! They actually felt really weird, and wasn't that exciting? He'd spent the day experimenting with it, watching his shadow move without him willing it, shapes that twisted out to trip any passersby. He hadn't fed into it much, amusing himself mostly by seeing what it would do on its own, how his very surroundings would move and cut around him, darkness creeping around at the edges of his vision. Spooky!
And a little bit dangerous. Henry remembered what it had been like when his powers had been corrupted last, but this was- different. Before, he had to call something up for it to backfire, and the nagging in the back of his head had been one of paranoia, a murderousness more enthusiastic than normal. This- this felt different, something at his core was wrong in a different way, and that was almost exciting. It was like his soul was rotting, the unfriendly shadows the only outward sign of it. How cool was that?
But he comes home nonetheless, if just to check in. It would probably be bad if his shadows started chasing the cats, and as soon as he's inside, a bird rips its way into being, flapping laboriously into a shelf, sending it rattling. The poor thing didn't have much of a chance, with two heads. Henry's poking at it curiously with a foot even as he calls out to Ryan, a laugh in his voice as the creature half melts into the floor, dripping into the shadow of the shelf itself.]
Heeey, Ryan? You holed up somewhere?
[Whenever he walks, things keep moving. Sometimes even when he holds still. But just a little. Just a hint of things acting on their own accord, but there's the odd feeling that the darkness of the room was watching.
Day 403
And a little bit dangerous. Henry remembered what it had been like when his powers had been corrupted last, but this was- different. Before, he had to call something up for it to backfire, and the nagging in the back of his head had been one of paranoia, a murderousness more enthusiastic than normal. This- this felt different, something at his core was wrong in a different way, and that was almost exciting. It was like his soul was rotting, the unfriendly shadows the only outward sign of it. How cool was that?
But he comes home nonetheless, if just to check in. It would probably be bad if his shadows started chasing the cats, and as soon as he's inside, a bird rips its way into being, flapping laboriously into a shelf, sending it rattling. The poor thing didn't have much of a chance, with two heads. Henry's poking at it curiously with a foot even as he calls out to Ryan, a laugh in his voice as the creature half melts into the floor, dripping into the shadow of the shelf itself.]
Heeey, Ryan? You holed up somewhere?
[Whenever he walks, things keep moving. Sometimes even when he holds still. But just a little. Just a hint of things acting on their own accord, but there's the odd feeling that the darkness of the room was watching.
But that was okay, right?]