[At first, there is no reaction, and certainly no reply to Oulan's words. He's felt it before, of course. As long as he's touching the skin of a living being, he is aware of their entire body, every single function and movement, every flaw, every ache; everything that makes it alive. And when someone dies, that feeling simply fades away, until the body he's touching is nothing but a thing, a sack of meat and flesh with as much life and agency to it as a rock. He can't feel anything.
(Had it felt like that with Yesfir? He can't remember; the blast of the grenade had knocked him out. He'd never felt her turn into a lifeless object, but did that mean there was a chance she was still alive? No. No no no no-)
He snatches his hands away from the body in front of him, shoulders shaking, trying to breathe as a part of his mind reminds him that this is probably a panic attack. He really ought to know better. Not now, not when there are... orders. That's right, orders.
He'd been given an order. He needed to carry it out. Slowly getting to his feet, Luvander simply wanders off, into the melee, where he was needed. Making sure it didn't happen again.]
no subject
(Had it felt like that with Yesfir? He can't remember; the blast of the grenade had knocked him out. He'd never felt her turn into a lifeless object, but did that mean there was a chance she was still alive? No. No no no no-)
He snatches his hands away from the body in front of him, shoulders shaking, trying to breathe as a part of his mind reminds him that this is probably a panic attack. He really ought to know better. Not now, not when there are... orders. That's right, orders.
He'd been given an order. He needed to carry it out. Slowly getting to his feet, Luvander simply wanders off, into the melee, where he was needed. Making sure it didn't happen again.]