When Xie comes round - or, more accurately, when the witch brings him round - he knows immediately something is wrong. Hard not to, with his arms tied behind his back and a blindfold over his eyes. His switchblade is gone, he can already tell, and he swears under his breath.
He tugs experimentally on the bonds around his wrist. Cable ties, he thinks, from the way they're cutting into his skin, and they're attached to something. He reaches back, feels around a little and decides it's a radiator. There's more cable ties around his ankles as well. One of his feet is cold where he's missing the shoe, the heel of it sore from dragging unprotected on the pavement as he was pulled into the van.
He doesn't seem to have any other injuries, at least, the magical knock-out is good for one thing - but he doesn't know where he is, who took him or why.
He stills his own breathing, straining his ears to listen. There's a faint whisper of fabric, a shift - somebody's in the room but they aren't speaking, probably just watching him. The witch who knocked him out, he assumes. For the moment, he ignores them, reaches out through the link instead.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2023-11-02 09:15 pm (UTC)When Xie comes round - or, more accurately, when the witch brings him round - he knows immediately something is wrong. Hard not to, with his arms tied behind his back and a blindfold over his eyes. His switchblade is gone, he can already tell, and he swears under his breath.
He tugs experimentally on the bonds around his wrist. Cable ties, he thinks, from the way they're cutting into his skin, and they're attached to something. He reaches back, feels around a little and decides it's a radiator. There's more cable ties around his ankles as well. One of his feet is cold where he's missing the shoe, the heel of it sore from dragging unprotected on the pavement as he was pulled into the van.
He doesn't seem to have any other injuries, at least, the magical knock-out is good for one thing - but he doesn't know where he is, who took him or why.
He stills his own breathing, straining his ears to listen. There's a faint whisper of fabric, a shift - somebody's in the room but they aren't speaking, probably just watching him. The witch who knocked him out, he assumes. For the moment, he ignores them, reaches out through the link instead.
"Kevin?"