[ Sitting cross legged on bedding, bare foot and dressed down to clothes he could comfortably pass out in, Charles is in his own world, an additional mental pocket dimension enclosed within the exclusive universe created here by lamp light and tent walls.
He's managed to manifest a pair of silvery steel scissors, chosen for virtue of being a simple machine -- his fingers are slid into its loops and he tests the movement of the implement, now and then. This was about ten minutes ago, and despite his best efforts, he's been unable to manifest anything along with it, like something to cut, or anything of use and value. An improvement from a week ago, but nowhere near how it had been prior to the crash, and he's not sure what is more curious -- that it's weakened, or that it remains at all.
Anyway. He has some scissors now and nothing to do with them, so that's groovy. He uses the blunt edge to pick at the grit beneath a thumbnail before registering that he has Erik's attention, through no action of his own.
Charles glances over, an eyebrow crooking up.
Tired but too thoughtful for sleep, his routine follows on from Erik's naturally, or the other way around. Hunger seems a bit of a constant, and the shifting light throws into sharp relief where he's gotten thinner in the face, but a meal of tasteless reptile meat and seeds makes it an easy feeling to abide by. ]
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He's managed to manifest a pair of silvery steel scissors, chosen for virtue of being a simple machine -- his fingers are slid into its loops and he tests the movement of the implement, now and then. This was about ten minutes ago, and despite his best efforts, he's been unable to manifest anything along with it, like something to cut, or anything of use and value. An improvement from a week ago, but nowhere near how it had been prior to the crash, and he's not sure what is more curious -- that it's weakened, or that it remains at all.
Anyway. He has some scissors now and nothing to do with them, so that's groovy. He uses the blunt edge to pick at the grit beneath a thumbnail before registering that he has Erik's attention, through no action of his own.
Charles glances over, an eyebrow crooking up.
Tired but too thoughtful for sleep, his routine follows on from Erik's naturally, or the other way around. Hunger seems a bit of a constant, and the shifting light throws into sharp relief where he's gotten thinner in the face, but a meal of tasteless reptile meat and seeds makes it an easy feeling to abide by. ]