[It's different than a conduit. Nothing at all like the static difference of potential the power units in this world maintain. Rinzler's fingers twitch, just slightly, as the transfer begins, a fluid shift of energy from one instance to the next. It's bright and easy and he needs it, so much more than he'd let himself admit.
Lights slowly brighten. The defensive, hungry clench to Rinzler's frame lets up. The trickle of power is maddeningly slow, but still enough to all but stagger him with the sensation. It's been a long time since Rinzler felt this kind of link, and at first, he thinks that's why.
But something's different.
He does stagger when it registers, a startled lurch that goes nowhere at all. The black helmet jerks sharply up, grip tightening as much to maintain balance as to keep the link intact. Does Tron feel it too? The leeching, oppressive tug, the background drain that's countered every effort at recharge Rinzler's made since entering the zone—
no subject
Lights slowly brighten. The defensive, hungry clench to Rinzler's frame lets up. The trickle of power is maddeningly slow, but still enough to all but stagger him with the sensation. It's been a long time since Rinzler felt this kind of link, and at first, he thinks that's why.
But something's different.
He does stagger when it registers, a startled lurch that goes nowhere at all. The black helmet jerks sharply up, grip tightening as much to maintain balance as to keep the link intact. Does Tron feel it too? The leeching, oppressive tug, the background drain that's countered every effort at recharge Rinzler's made since entering the zone—
It's completely, wholly gone.]