Perception of reality shifted, it's less jarring in those last, futile seconds. Like inhaling deeply after shrugging off a dream, her senses drop sharply off from beneath her with a dizzying amount of vertigo.
And then she's free again. Relatively.
Looks down at her hands to find violet nails rather than the blue she's worn to mask her identity within the Legion: no azure strips of circuitry, no braided, luminescent hair extentions designed to distract from her facial features— just her, as she used to be. Turns her fingers over for a moment to stare in awe at a sincere reflection of her own appearance. The span of a few seconds drawn surreally out until she isn't sure how long she's been standing there.
—before she notices York's frantic litany.
She's there in an instant, palms angrily pressed to that coded prison. It's hard to tell if he can see her, hear her, but there are physical traces of splintered data beneath her fingertips; he'd been aware enough before, maybe that's still true now.
"York! ¿ —me escuchas?" Testing the limits of integrated restrictions, of what Delta's managed to impose, she's already working to try and hack what's been patched over the shattered hole. The disconnect between levels of awareness entirely forgotten, like a testament to Delta's promise.
I can't believe I had a typo in my last tag, for shame
And then she's free again. Relatively.
Looks down at her hands to find violet nails rather than the blue she's worn to mask her identity within the Legion: no azure strips of circuitry, no braided, luminescent hair extentions designed to distract from her facial features— just her, as she used to be. Turns her fingers over for a moment to stare in awe at a sincere reflection of her own appearance. The span of a few seconds drawn surreally out until she isn't sure how long she's been standing there.
—before she notices York's frantic litany.
She's there in an instant, palms angrily pressed to that coded prison. It's hard to tell if he can see her, hear her, but there are physical traces of splintered data beneath her fingertips; he'd been aware enough before, maybe that's still true now.
"York! ¿ —me escuchas?" Testing the limits of integrated restrictions, of what Delta's managed to impose, she's already working to try and hack what's been patched over the shattered hole. The disconnect between levels of awareness entirely forgotten, like a testament to Delta's promise.
"Mírame, mijo— hey, hey, look at me."