[ @uh, video ] [ After a few minutes of watching the network in confusion, Wight figures it might finally be time to say something about it. Whatever was causing it was way out of his league-- it's not magic, that much he's fairly sure of, and that means he's at even more of a loss than usual. Tech of this level is a complete mystery to him, and as far as he knows, it could be anything. ] [ His own feed is just as static-filled as the others, but there's the vague shape of an inhuman skull in the cloud blocking out what's presumably his face. The voice that accompanies it is deep, rumbling, and not at all a good match for the words he speaks. ] Hey, um-- guys? If anybody's out there right now, but-- well. You're showing up on the...network? So I guess that counts as a sign of life. [ Wight awkwardly burrows into his coat, glancing around the room for a second. He's definitely alone in here at least, and he feels it. ] What's going on with this? This being the-- The static, I think it's called. Looks like there's a problem with this thing.
...oooor maybe this is normal. If it is, whoops. Don't mind me! [ That...probably was supposed to be a laugh, although it didn't sound much like one at all. ] Carry on with your day.
four
[ He's seen things like this before. It doesn't really make it any easier to look at, but he's had enough time to put the necessary amount of distance between himself and the reality of what happened here. Wight treads carefully all the same, charcoal crunching under his hooves as he creeps through the house-- he has no way to be sure if what caused all this damage is still around, and he's certainly not keen on the idea of triggering it again. Perhaps he's being overly cautious, but he doesn't want to risk it. ] [ The best he can do is bow his head in a moment of silent sympathy as he passes the silhouettes, gripping the strap of his backpack a little tighter. He's no invoker-- death rites were never a part of his training, and he can't help but feel as though they'd fall flat here anyway. It wasn't difficult to tell what they'd been doing before they'd died, and the image brings up a more pragmatic thought. The people that lived here were gone, but their belongings remained, more or less; maybe, by some chance, there would be food or supplies hidden, untouched by the fire that had consumed everything else. ]
[ Wight clears his throat, looking back over his shoulder at his companion-- if they'd had a similar idea, they might already be getting to work rummaging through the wreckage. He's been a little too preoccupied with the shapes on the wall to keep track of them. ]
...you think they'd be bothered if we took some stuff? [ He tilts his head toward the outlines, voice hushed and cautious. This wouldn't be his first time scavenging the dead, but if there's any objections, he doesn't mind leaving it be. ] Might wanna look at what we have, first-- see if we'd be hurting real bad without a restock.
wight | original
[ @uh, video ]
[ After a few minutes of watching the network in confusion, Wight figures it might finally be time to say something about it. Whatever was causing it was way out of his league-- it's not magic, that much he's fairly sure of, and that means he's at even more of a loss than usual. Tech of this level is a complete mystery to him, and as far as he knows, it could be anything. ]
[ His own feed is just as static-filled as the others, but there's the vague shape of an inhuman skull in the cloud blocking out what's presumably his face. The voice that accompanies it is deep, rumbling, and not at all a good match for the words he speaks. ]
Hey, um-- guys? If anybody's out there right now, but-- well. You're showing up on the...network? So I guess that counts as a sign of life. [ Wight awkwardly burrows into his coat, glancing around the room for a second. He's definitely alone in here at least, and he feels it. ] What's going on with this? This being the-- The static, I think it's called. Looks like there's a problem with this thing.
...oooor maybe this is normal. If it is, whoops. Don't mind me! [ That...probably was supposed to be a laugh, although it didn't sound much like one at all. ] Carry on with your day.
four
[ He's seen things like this before. It doesn't really make it any easier to look at, but he's had enough time to put the necessary amount of distance between himself and the reality of what happened here. Wight treads carefully all the same, charcoal crunching under his hooves as he creeps through the house-- he has no way to be sure if what caused all this damage is still around, and he's certainly not keen on the idea of triggering it again. Perhaps he's being overly cautious, but he doesn't want to risk it. ]
[ The best he can do is bow his head in a moment of silent sympathy as he passes the silhouettes, gripping the strap of his backpack a little tighter. He's no invoker-- death rites were never a part of his training, and he can't help but feel as though they'd fall flat here anyway. It wasn't difficult to tell what they'd been doing before they'd died, and the image brings up a more pragmatic thought. The people that lived here were gone, but their belongings remained, more or less; maybe, by some chance, there would be food or supplies hidden, untouched by the fire that had consumed everything else. ]
[ Wight clears his throat, looking back over his shoulder at his companion-- if they'd had a similar idea, they might already be getting to work rummaging through the wreckage. He's been a little too preoccupied with the shapes on the wall to keep track of them. ]
...you think they'd be bothered if we took some stuff? [ He tilts his head toward the outlines, voice hushed and cautious. This wouldn't be his first time scavenging the dead, but if there's any objections, he doesn't mind leaving it be. ] Might wanna look at what we have, first-- see if we'd be hurting real bad without a restock.