blind obstacle course [★] NIGHT VISION

[elijah]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; line-height: 1.5; font-size: 9pt;"]While Keona had no eyes that could see the world, Elijah perhaps had too many. He was accustomed to switching vision to vision, moving from his own sight to that of his rats as he traversed and did his best to maintain steps ahead of the ones around him. He felt distrustful of his surroundings, unable to accept the materialisations that supposedly existed before his icy gaze. He second guessed his own eyes, his own ears, his own nose. Not until he checked with every single one of his rats that he felt certain. But, by then, it was usually too late for Elijah to regret not acting on impulse, not acting on the image he saw with his own perception. His ears swindle towards the privateer's voice, the male's nose twitching as he recognises her different but familiar scent. This was Keona, the blind girl. He could have sworn she was older than him but her image was akin to that of a child. Despite the facts before him, the demiangel didn't necessarily feel unsettled by the apparent forever-child. Though he was curious as to why she continued to be dazzled with youth, Elijah quickly loss interest in pondering the matter. Keona was not here to be interrogated.

A smile creeps upon his expression, the darkfurred male drawing his gaze towards the so-called obstacle course. "A blind obstacle course doesn't sound...too bad. I trust you," he says without a falter in his tone, but the truth was that he trusted his rats more than the likes of a pirate. He didn't exactly feel safe with the stability of the course items but he chose participate anyway just to humour her.

Without any words, a number of his rats sweep towards the basket that held the assortment of cloths, shifting quickly through before picking out a pale blue that matched the hue of Elijah's blood. As if treating the boy like a king, they lay the fabric before him. Elijah wasn't experienced with tying knots with his eyes closed. He had never even tried it. Still, the demiangel lifts the cloth with the wind, bringing it to head and doing his best to feel the way it moved behind him. Most of it came from his imagination. He struggled to feel the ends meet, only recognising the pattern of warm wind brushing behind his ears. He shakes his head gently and after a few tugs, he turns his head towards Keona. "I think it'll hold," he muses. "Where do I, uh, go? Forward?"