[Qubit tells Carlisle to stay calm, and he finds that to be the most difficult task in the world at that moment. With the way the room is shifting all around them, defying everything possibility by becoming an impossibility, he starts to question what is real and what isn't. As a cowardly man who spent most of his years both dead and alive, his soul separating more and more with every passing day between the realm of the living and that of the dead, seeing one world in his waking hours and another in his dreams, he has never had a very good grasp on what is real and what is only a figment of his paranoia. This isn't real, he tells himself; it cannot be.
His grip loosens as he goes to bury his face in his hands, desperate to shut out the calamity, but he finds that Qubit is still holding onto him; he can detect minute tremors in his energies as they fluctuate around his arm, bending where Qubit's fingers press against him. Carlisle can feel his hand, albeit in the roundabout way he senses things now as an undead -- Qubit is real. Focusing on the other man's voice, he runs those words back through his head: Stay calm. Stay put. Stay together. That is what the warnings said, isn't it?
His fingers tightening on Qubit as though to reaffirm that they are in this impossibility together, his brings his other hand to rest atop the first, closing his eyes as he focuses on his energy. He must not rot everything around him in terror, especially not the only other person with him. He does not want to be alone -- he cannot be alone. Old habits rise as he tries to keep himself measured, but there's no machinery around him to memorize, no details to fixate on to maintain his composure.
So he talks about what he does know, focusing on the pressure against his arm as he listens to his own voice as it takes off a mile a minute.]
When once faced with the possibility he could not find a particular component in our world famed alchemist Pendlebrook Brimstone devised an altered f-f-f-form of a planar rift a dangerous form of glyphcrafting that allows one to travel between the planes of existence and while it is never recommended anyone attempt such a tremendously daunting and potentially fatal endeavor Pendlebrook Brimstone was no regular man having already proven himself by that point to be one of the most capable magicians of his time on top of his renown in alchemy and so he s-s-settled down in his house to work on his glyph it took him years reportedly to complete it but on the fourth year under the The King of Watchers the Buried and the Massive he finally accomplished his goal bringing his brother-in-law to his house to act as witness as he stepped through the planar rift into another realm of existence and in order to find his way back he left behind an ench-ch-chanted watch that would tick louder the closer he was to it as he was certain he might not be able to trust his eyes in other realms but the ticking of the clock was a grounding factor for him just a little like now with you holding my arm this is fine this is fine this is fine this is fine—
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His grip loosens as he goes to bury his face in his hands, desperate to shut out the calamity, but he finds that Qubit is still holding onto him; he can detect minute tremors in his energies as they fluctuate around his arm, bending where Qubit's fingers press against him. Carlisle can feel his hand, albeit in the roundabout way he senses things now as an undead -- Qubit is real. Focusing on the other man's voice, he runs those words back through his head: Stay calm. Stay put. Stay together. That is what the warnings said, isn't it?
His fingers tightening on Qubit as though to reaffirm that they are in this impossibility together, his brings his other hand to rest atop the first, closing his eyes as he focuses on his energy. He must not rot everything around him in terror, especially not the only other person with him. He does not want to be alone -- he cannot be alone. Old habits rise as he tries to keep himself measured, but there's no machinery around him to memorize, no details to fixate on to maintain his composure.
So he talks about what he does know, focusing on the pressure against his arm as he listens to his own voice as it takes off a mile a minute.]
When once faced with the possibility he could not find a particular component in our world famed alchemist Pendlebrook Brimstone devised an altered f-f-f-form of a planar rift a dangerous form of glyphcrafting that allows one to travel between the planes of existence and while it is never recommended anyone attempt such a tremendously daunting and potentially fatal endeavor Pendlebrook Brimstone was no regular man having already proven himself by that point to be one of the most capable magicians of his time on top of his renown in alchemy and so he s-s-settled down in his house to work on his glyph it took him years reportedly to complete it but on the fourth year under the The King of Watchers the Buried and the Massive he finally accomplished his goal bringing his brother-in-law to his house to act as witness as he stepped through the planar rift into another realm of existence and in order to find his way back he left behind an ench-ch-chanted watch that would tick louder the closer he was to it as he was certain he might not be able to trust his eyes in other realms but the ticking of the clock was a grounding factor for him just a little like now with you holding my arm this is fine this is fine this is fine this is fine—