and I've only got my brittle bones to break the fall
His care pays off, and he doesn't slice up his fingers to smear the oily reanimation fluids over skin and windowframes. The occasional sound of glass breaking as he manipulates it is oddly satisfying.Once he's done paving the way for Mabel and Cameron he steps back, begins to drift away to peer at something or another—he may be close to physically tireless but the strain of concentration remains, and he's starting to feel a little worn. It'll be nice to get this done, maybe invite Cameron in and lay a fire, cook up some tea and just enjoy the fruits of hard labor—
There's something wrong.
It's the tense stillness, as if the slightest movement may shatter the world, or as if a movement a tad too slow will be too late. Aamu whirls around to look at them, spots the danger as Mabel whispers her plea and he—he's scared of fucking this up when she's actually asking for his help.
He doesn't dare respond but quickly moves over, trying to assess the situation and figure out where to put his hands to stabilize things and let them recover, regain control.
Aamu tries to save the windows!
Aamu
