[There's nothing soothing about searching through his pack by touch, but it is at least focusing, something he can actually do in the face of - whatever this is. His fingers finally skip over the nub of a wax candle, and he pulls it out, followed by the flint striker he so very rarely has to use.]
Shield your eyes.
[He strikes sparks once, twice, and on the third time, the wick catches. The flame that blooms is a dull, flickering thing, but it seems almost impossibly bright against the pitch dark of seconds ago.]
no subject
Shield your eyes.
[He strikes sparks once, twice, and on the third time, the wick catches. The flame that blooms is a dull, flickering thing, but it seems almost impossibly bright against the pitch dark of seconds ago.]