[He gathers the little spark of sunlight in carefully, tugging it out of Hierophant and into his blood like electricity from a wire, and feels it tingle beneath his skin; he'll have to get rid of it somehow, sooner or later, but that'll be something he can worry about later.]
Don't...need to be...fantastic. S'fine.
[He is breathing. And concentrating. Talking through Hamon is hard.]
no subject
Don't...need to be...fantastic. S'fine.
[He is breathing. And concentrating. Talking through Hamon is hard.]