Not that the humming is particularly loud; it's more that this space is, mmm, abnormally quiet, because Felix has spent the past five years sleeping in tents, in inns, in his old dorm room back at Garreg Mach. He's used to noise? To the sound of too many people moving about—but as he slowly swims to consciousness, trying to remember where he fell asleep (in Enbarr, a room in the castle at Enbarr, so tired after both the battle and the victory celebration that he all but collapsed into the first empty bed he came across) all he can hear is that low hum.
...Something is clearly wrong. It isn't even a guess; it's something he knows, a sudden weight in his stomach that sends him lurching upright as he opens his eyes, blinks back against the sunlight all but flooding the room. This is not the room he'd fell asleep in, with its garish red walls, its heavy damask curtains—and truth be told, it's like no room he's seen before. Oh, a bed is a bed, and a chest of drawers is a chest of drawers, but there's a strange machine (clock?) on the table beside him, an even stranger machine hanging from the ceiling above him, and somewhere not too far away, someone is humming a song that Felix knows.
And thus Felix slides out of this too-big bed as quietly as he can, reaching for the sword that is, like the Aegis Shield, propped against the wall beside the window. Why? He isn't going to question it, just like he isn't going to stare at the strange things on the other side of the glass; he draws his sword from its sheath, instead, creeping closer to the cracked door so that he can carefully nudge it open with one foot...
Listen: Felix would recognize Sylvain anywhere. The red hair helps, yes, but after spending so much time together, day in and day out, Felix has the very shape of him memorized—and the person standing across the room? The person whose back is facing Felix, who is so obviously focused on doing something as he hums a tune taken straight from Felix's childhood? Ah. Well, what is there to say, other than a befuddled-sounding:]
Sylvain?
[Stupid. Anyway: Hi, hello, guess who's in your bedroom doorway in all his bedheaded glory, brow furrowing as the point of his sword sinks toward the floor. Goodbye, security deposit.]
action; 5/12? why not
Not that the humming is particularly loud; it's more that this space is, mmm, abnormally quiet, because Felix has spent the past five years sleeping in tents, in inns, in his old dorm room back at Garreg Mach. He's used to noise? To the sound of too many people moving about—but as he slowly swims to consciousness, trying to remember where he fell asleep (in Enbarr, a room in the castle at Enbarr, so tired after both the battle and the victory celebration that he all but collapsed into the first empty bed he came across) all he can hear is that low hum.
...Something is clearly wrong. It isn't even a guess; it's something he knows, a sudden weight in his stomach that sends him lurching upright as he opens his eyes, blinks back against the sunlight all but flooding the room. This is not the room he'd fell asleep in, with its garish red walls, its heavy damask curtains—and truth be told, it's like no room he's seen before. Oh, a bed is a bed, and a chest of drawers is a chest of drawers, but there's a strange machine (clock?) on the table beside him, an even stranger machine hanging from the ceiling above him, and somewhere not too far away, someone is humming a song that Felix knows.
And thus Felix slides out of this too-big bed as quietly as he can, reaching for the sword that is, like the Aegis Shield, propped against the wall beside the window. Why? He isn't going to question it, just like he isn't going to stare at the strange things on the other side of the glass; he draws his sword from its sheath, instead, creeping closer to the cracked door so that he can carefully nudge it open with one foot...
Listen: Felix would recognize Sylvain anywhere. The red hair helps, yes, but after spending so much time together, day in and day out, Felix has the very shape of him memorized—and the person standing across the room? The person whose back is facing Felix, who is so obviously focused on doing something as he hums a tune taken straight from Felix's childhood? Ah. Well, what is there to say, other than a befuddled-sounding:]
Sylvain?
[Stupid. Anyway: Hi, hello, guess who's in your bedroom doorway in all his bedheaded glory, brow furrowing as the point of his sword sinks toward the floor. Goodbye, security deposit.]