[He hates fire. If he hadn't forced himself to move then, his body likely would have given him trouble. Started to tense too much, balk, or maybe he even would have frozen entirely. It's always hard to say, every new disaster brings old memories out to march on by. Entertain them and the disaster grows.
So Tim's body has done this thing where alarm and hurt and raw agony is seamlessly replaced by a gray sort of understanding to just keep moving. Gotham City made for good practice. He's sparing his companion a glance, mind learning that there's no smoke making the air thick and lodging the taste of tar in his throat
(he can smell the people dying as clearly as he can hear them; this is likely how Armstrong's-- no)]
No.
[Bludhaven, a literal crater in the ground. Over a hundred--
See, it needs to become routine and a person needs to able to absorb it all. And not be affected. Not in the field. There's heat and fire crackling like a joker laughing at the uselessness of a single drop of water.
There's a lot of screaming. There's the residential community of the coast city just up ahead. And there's no lights flickering on-off, no blown transformers.]
It didn't sound like an explosion, I didn't hear any artillery overhead.
[--what he had heard, prior to the wailing now assaulting his ears and making his ever nerve burn-- he can't-- remember. Wind knocked sufficiently out of his lungs, Tim's next words are barely a whisper.]
no subject
So Tim's body has done this thing where alarm and hurt and raw agony is seamlessly replaced by a gray sort of understanding to just keep moving. Gotham City made for good practice. He's sparing his companion a glance, mind learning that there's no smoke making the air thick and lodging the taste of tar in his throat
(he can smell the people dying as clearly as he can hear them; this is likely how Armstrong's-- no)]
No.
[Bludhaven, a literal crater in the ground. Over a hundred--
See, it needs to become routine and a person needs to able to absorb it all. And not be affected. Not in the field. There's heat and fire crackling like a joker laughing at the uselessness of a single drop of water.
There's a lot of screaming. There's the residential community of the coast city just up ahead. And there's no lights flickering on-off, no blown transformers.]
It didn't sound like an explosion, I didn't hear any artillery overhead.
[--what he had heard, prior to the wailing now assaulting his ears and making his ever nerve burn-- he can't-- remember. Wind knocked sufficiently out of his lungs, Tim's next words are barely a whisper.]
No one's running.