Alloran does not appear to react, or, well, he goes still, stalk eyes stopping their motion. Radiating out from him is a tangible feeling of... suffocation, or paralysis.
It's not actually imposed, his ability doesn't go that far. Stacia can break through it pretty easily if she tries and sense it as uncomfortable but at a remove. That sense, if she doesn't interrupt him, of the body as just a one-piece garment someone comfortably slips into, down to the tips of every extremity, and that someone sighing happily and in the most intimate tones saying oh, I'm so glad you are mine. It's not a sharp new horror, not terrifying, it's dull and heavy and hopeless.
Then comes the slow burn of waiting for them to cause a breath and feeling the need for air build without the expectation of being able to do anything about it, on and on and on and on and on, until Alloran wrenches out of it and inhales, shaking his head and very consciously fidgeting.
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It's not actually imposed, his ability doesn't go that far. Stacia can break through it pretty easily if she tries and sense it as uncomfortable but at a remove. That sense, if she doesn't interrupt him, of the body as just a one-piece garment someone comfortably slips into, down to the tips of every extremity, and that someone sighing happily and in the most intimate tones saying oh, I'm so glad you are mine. It's not a sharp new horror, not terrifying, it's dull and heavy and hopeless.
Then comes the slow burn of waiting for them to cause a breath and feeling the need for air build without the expectation of being able to do anything about it, on and on and on and on and on, until Alloran wrenches out of it and inhales, shaking his head and very consciously fidgeting.