Yeah, and the kid from the beginning showed up and gave me a list of a few room numbers to go to. One was a couple of people from that world, Richie's friends, and the other two were people from here.
...You were up on the top floor. Richie's friends, I told them what was happenin' and they got out of there, went to meet up with some of the others. The two of you from here I took along with me, back down to the lobby. That was when we finally all met up again.
[ he's just... not going to say under what circumstances because it isn't his business... though his feelings sort of betray him a little again, because they are very mixed and complicated rather than just relieved like you might expect. ]
Barely got to say two words to 'em before the police showed up shooting at everyone. Along with that monster, who seemed to be gettin' a real kick out of it.
[ he hates that fucking clown so much. ]
...And then we all died, and that was that, basically. [ ... ] Sort of succeeded in what we were meant to do, at least.
[ oh. well, that answers that question. there's a little ping of startled, at first - it's not like he hasn't heard of similar before. he saw marcoh and neverah both all those weeks ago, which had been jarring beyond belief, but... this is the first time he's heard his own name, and it's a strange feeling.
more or less, he can put together what happened at the end - what goes unsaid says a lot, and he falls quiet, brows knit together, letting fidelio's experience reflect back onto him for a long, thoughtful pause. those feelings of complication, the absolute misery of shadowheart and anders, and...
when he speaks again, it's soft, looking not at fidelio but at the bed as he chooses his words. ]
I think that these... adventures are so often designed to be impossible for anyone to succeed entirely. They are designed to hit us where it hurts the most, no matter where that is, or how they achieve it - physically, mentally, and otherwise.
[ beyond the partial success of the mission, there's a weight implied in what he says. he knows that it must have hurt him, even if he can't quite put his finger on exactly why, beyond the image of a firefight in an evacuating building, and bodies on the floor.
... ]
... Though it does not surprise me... thank you, for trying to keep me safe. [ some version of him, anyway, and it's followed with a gentle squeeze of his hand, as he sets his gaze back on del. ] A different person may have just run away, especially if they knew that we may not be ourselves, at all, but rather some illusion.
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...You were up on the top floor. Richie's friends, I told them what was happenin' and they got out of there, went to meet up with some of the others. The two of you from here I took along with me, back down to the lobby. That was when we finally all met up again.
[ he's just... not going to say under what circumstances because it isn't his business... though his feelings sort of betray him a little again, because they are very mixed and complicated rather than just relieved like you might expect. ]
Barely got to say two words to 'em before the police showed up shooting at everyone. Along with that monster, who seemed to be gettin' a real kick out of it.
[ he hates that fucking clown so much. ]
...And then we all died, and that was that, basically. [ ... ] Sort of succeeded in what we were meant to do, at least.
[ partly... ]
no subject
more or less, he can put together what happened at the end - what goes unsaid says a lot, and he falls quiet, brows knit together, letting fidelio's experience reflect back onto him for a long, thoughtful pause. those feelings of complication, the absolute misery of shadowheart and anders, and...
when he speaks again, it's soft, looking not at fidelio but at the bed as he chooses his words. ]
I think that these... adventures are so often designed to be impossible for anyone to succeed entirely. They are designed to hit us where it hurts the most, no matter where that is, or how they achieve it - physically, mentally, and otherwise.
[ beyond the partial success of the mission, there's a weight implied in what he says. he knows that it must have hurt him, even if he can't quite put his finger on exactly why, beyond the image of a firefight in an evacuating building, and bodies on the floor.
... ]
... Though it does not surprise me... thank you, for trying to keep me safe. [ some version of him, anyway, and it's followed with a gentle squeeze of his hand, as he sets his gaze back on del. ] A different person may have just run away, especially if they knew that we may not be ourselves, at all, but rather some illusion.