[Quentin has to... well, not block her—the connection between their minds is still open, even if he can feel her struggling with the desire to flee, and sis? Hard same—but the anxiety in her head forces him to turn his focus away. Center himself. Calm his mind.
For a long moment he just sits. And breathes. And feels the world out there in the physical plane. The minds of the mutants in the mansion, the other people in Etraya, the animals, birds, the tiniest sparks of insects out there. Not touching them or listening to them, just... sensing them. It's so, so much quieter than the barrage of sensory input he's used to, but it'll do. At least this little chunk of the world feels alive, and that'll have to be sufficient for him to ground himself.
He focuses, and he breathes, and he slumps in this stupid fucking chair in Sophie's Cuckoo's weird empty liminal space of a mindscape, while she sits over on her couch like a really sexy bump on a log. And then, head still in his hands, he finally speaks, huffing an utterly exhausted, breathy chuckle.]
You're really bad at this.
[It's... a little bit of a joke. Like maybe 15% joke.]
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For a long moment he just sits. And breathes. And feels the world out there in the physical plane. The minds of the mutants in the mansion, the other people in Etraya, the animals, birds, the tiniest sparks of insects out there. Not touching them or listening to them, just... sensing them. It's so, so much quieter than the barrage of sensory input he's used to, but it'll do. At least this little chunk of the world feels alive, and that'll have to be sufficient for him to ground himself.
He focuses, and he breathes, and he slumps in this stupid fucking chair in Sophie's Cuckoo's weird empty liminal space of a mindscape, while she sits over on her couch like a really sexy bump on a log. And then, head still in his hands, he finally speaks, huffing an utterly exhausted, breathy chuckle.]
You're really bad at this.
[It's... a little bit of a joke. Like maybe 15% joke.]