Daniel's trying very hard to keep calm. This isn't a first for him, he knows how these sorts of things work, being caught between thereness and the not where no one can see or hear or touch him. And now it's happening to Seth, for whatever reason, and Daniel, despite his tangling words and the desperate hands that reach out to anchor themselves against whoever's in reach, has lost him.
"Seth," he calls it, sharper. "Seth, I don't know if you can still hear me. I don't know if it works both ways. But I'm - I'm going to try and reverse it. Whatever it is that's going on, I'm going to stop it, I promise. Okay?"
He waits a moment and gets no response. Or maybe he does, and he just can't hear it. The thought leaves a bitter clenching in his chest. He swallows past it.
"I'm sorry," he says again, however relevant the apology may or may not be. "I'm sorry."
If he were in his old universe there would be dozens of texts of reference he could pull out right now with helpful phrases like phase displacement, dimensional shift, and selective visualization. The options are varied and manifold and Daniel has no idea what any of them mean here. It's probably the Rift - no, it's definitely the Rift, strange things always are unless they happen to be the more conventional strange things that have become the constants in Daniel's life.
After one last, hopeless look Daniel sets off back to his apartment. He doesn't even try to ignore the awful guilt solidifying in his gut. He doesn't know what this is, doesn't even know where to begin, but he'll fix it. Whatever it is, he'll fix it. He'll reverse it. He'll fix it.
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"Seth," he calls it, sharper. "Seth, I don't know if you can still hear me. I don't know if it works both ways. But I'm - I'm going to try and reverse it. Whatever it is that's going on, I'm going to stop it, I promise. Okay?"
He waits a moment and gets no response. Or maybe he does, and he just can't hear it. The thought leaves a bitter clenching in his chest. He swallows past it.
"I'm sorry," he says again, however relevant the apology may or may not be. "I'm sorry."
If he were in his old universe there would be dozens of texts of reference he could pull out right now with helpful phrases like phase displacement, dimensional shift, and selective visualization. The options are varied and manifold and Daniel has no idea what any of them mean here. It's probably the Rift - no, it's definitely the Rift, strange things always are unless they happen to be the more conventional strange things that have become the constants in Daniel's life.
After one last, hopeless look Daniel sets off back to his apartment. He doesn't even try to ignore the awful guilt solidifying in his gut. He doesn't know what this is, doesn't even know where to begin, but he'll fix it. Whatever it is, he'll fix it. He'll reverse it. He'll fix it.