[If D sneaks up on Augustine in the Oakwoods, it isn't intentional. He didn't take the torch the old woman, Myrtille, offered because he can see in the dark. (Though he did consider it as a means of weaponry; there are plenty of things on the Frontier who dislike fire.)
Even wrapped from head to foot in the most ridiculous amount of cloth, even with spurs on the backs of his boots, he somehow manages to walk without making a whole lot of sound. To Augustine, it's light but still there. The plush crunch of moss underfoot, the way the ground shifts to accommodate him. The harpies, too, lingering above in the distance, chanting. And the dark, catastrophic aura following him where he goes, an inner gravity dampened by the way this place takes from them the height of their abilities.
He's not there, and then he is just there, spit out of the shadows as a silhouette and nearly invisible against the dark. His pale face is the only bright thing, floating in the nothing. But he stops a yard or so away, giving Augustine room to recognize him.]
Knock Knock Also, but On Different Wood
Even wrapped from head to foot in the most ridiculous amount of cloth, even with spurs on the backs of his boots, he somehow manages to walk without making a whole lot of sound. To Augustine, it's light but still there. The plush crunch of moss underfoot, the way the ground shifts to accommodate him. The harpies, too, lingering above in the distance, chanting. And the dark, catastrophic aura following him where he goes, an inner gravity dampened by the way this place takes from them the height of their abilities.
He's not there, and then he is just there, spit out of the shadows as a silhouette and nearly invisible against the dark. His pale face is the only bright thing, floating in the nothing. But he stops a yard or so away, giving Augustine room to recognize him.]
Are you here for the lantern?