==> Reverse. Select jump time.
> Year
> Month
> Day
> Less
A count-down ticked a steady burden at the back of a time player's mind. It was a tireless reminder that time would run out, even while building courage.
The bottle in her hands was steady enough. The shakes were milder than usual, but her knuckles were still white as she clenched around glass, looking for reassurance; something solid, something real and cool. She sucked in a slow breath, focused on how (shallowly) her chest expanded, on the feel muscles stretching around it.
…She exhaled off-beat of the count-down.
Her heel hit the transportalizer’s power button, and the device thrummed to life with flashing lights. Damara dialed down the delay settings, upped the sensitivity as far as she could get it; she set the transportalizer to flash up at the slighest detection, enough to send a person, a fly, a mote of dust to the set coordinates if it happened to drift over. She drew out another breath as long as she could, letting it go stale in her chest before exhaling.
Another count-down ticked in her head. A short one.
The proxy was in place and her usage of it wouldn’t show up. This was the easy part.
She threw the glass bottle in a high arc– a dark hue from the hemospectrum, but not her own. It disappeared the moment it passed over the edge of the platform, blinking out of existence a good few feet in the air. And when it reached the other end, it’d fall that remaining distance and break. The recipient probably forgot Dam still had the coordinates; ever had them at all.
She picked up the plain, outdated palmhusk off the floor, to clutch it instead now. It was set to vibrate. She just had to wait.
..An hour and a half before they’d miss her. Less. She clenched her empty fist and muscles in her arm ached in protest: so a day at most for the shaking.
Four minutes to be upstairs before they noticed, without rushing so loud they heard her. Half a night before she could sneak down again, at the earliest.
She started the count-down again.