[ He lets him tell it all, without interruptions, and doesn't mind the jumbled nature of the telling. Where the void was concerned, things were never quite clear to say later. Snatched images was how he remembered it most often.
Even then, doesn't sound like anything he knows, but it wouldn't matter would it. The void fed off what was there. But it's... that jarring sought of beauty. Illuminated glass in dark rooms. Does his best to imagine it.
But it turns quick to all shattered glass at the last instance. He knows that note. ]
I am sorry. That's for me, not for you. Please do not take that note to heart.
[ In his heart, somewhere, there's a skipped beat and a sigh, and thinks quiet as if hushing a loved one, I'm sorry. ] Has there been anything else?
It's true though. [ His voice is hollow, void of any emotion other than acceptance. ] I can't save her.
[ His hands uncurl, staring into his palms. He'd held her in his arms and watch her dissolve into nothingness. Was that better or worse than not knowing what had happened to her at all? He doesn't know what happened on Macha, doesn't know where, or when, or what. All he has is the whispering amongst the recruits that Honey had killed her. It sticks in his head, malicious and irritating. She did it...
The growing strength of that conviction may be something to mention, but he doesn't realize that. ]
I don't think there's anything else... I'm just tired.
[ For that he can say nothing. He can no more absolve someone else of the thing that he can't give himself. Can't make it better, can't make it go away. It'd be too hypocritical than he can accept for himself.
So he focuses on something he can, the little bit of advice he can give. The only thing that worked when his bones were shaking with cold. ]
Do you have something you like to do? Something that makes you happy? Or you can focus on?
[ Everyone has asked him that question. Everyone has suggested he try to get his mind off of it, try to keep himself busy. What was he supposed to do when every moment was just another stinging reminder that Xion wasn't there anymore. That she'd been taken away from him. Existing without her had a bitter taste. Continuing on with the CDC had a bitter taste. She hadn't been happy during Macha, she had opposed the company's way of doing things. Was it worth it to stay on this path, save her through a method she wouldn't have approved of? It was all wrong. It was all tainted.
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no subject
Even then, doesn't sound like anything he knows, but it wouldn't matter would it. The void fed off what was there. But it's... that jarring sought of beauty. Illuminated glass in dark rooms. Does his best to imagine it.
But it turns quick to all shattered glass at the last instance. He knows that note. ]
I am sorry. That's for me, not for you. Please do not take that note to heart.
[ In his heart, somewhere, there's a skipped beat and a sigh, and thinks quiet as if hushing a loved one, I'm sorry. ] Has there been anything else?
no subject
[ His hands uncurl, staring into his palms. He'd held her in his arms and watch her dissolve into nothingness. Was that better or worse than not knowing what had happened to her at all? He doesn't know what happened on Macha, doesn't know where, or when, or what. All he has is the whispering amongst the recruits that Honey had killed her. It sticks in his head, malicious and irritating. She did it...
The growing strength of that conviction may be something to mention, but he doesn't realize that. ]
I don't think there's anything else... I'm just tired.
[ The dreams were not restful. ]
no subject
So he focuses on something he can, the little bit of advice he can give. The only thing that worked when his bones were shaking with cold. ]
Do you have something you like to do? Something that makes you happy? Or you can focus on?
no subject
He stares down at his hands, brows pinching. ]
No.
[ A petulant answer, maybe, but he is a child. ]