[ I make up stories that suit a narrative I’d prefer—-
He finds that rather than any kind of disgust or disagreement with the way the stranger speaks, there’s something in him that’s pulled towards him, that feels some sort of strange, unnerving camaraderie with the statement, though he doesn’t know why. There’s just a well of sorrow at the thought, his throat working to swallow, stiff with breath; it isn’t the sort of confession he’s expecting, but he’s not unused to mention of murder, and death.
He’s killed plenty of people, he thinks. He has no right to judge anyone there. ]
…We’ll take this. [ —-is what he says lowly, carefully, to the merchant; the stranger is gripping the amulet hard enough to maybe even cut himself on the corners of it, and firmly, Cloud reaches out with one gloved hand to lay it over the stranger’s, working his fingers apart to reveal the amulet within them. ] Thanks.
[ The merchant gingerly takes the amulet from the stranger’s palm and begins to wrap it up for them—-clearing his throat, Cloud withdraws his hand, arms folding loosely against his chest as they wait. ]
I don’t think you’re crazy, and I don’t think that charm is going to help with any of that. No one can help you forgive yourself but you, in the end, though…
[ A soft breath, through his nose. His memories prickle, thoughts that sting at his eyes, threaten with a headache—- ] Having a friend helps. You have a place to stay, here? Someone to keep an eye on you?
no subject
He finds that rather than any kind of disgust or disagreement with the way the stranger speaks, there’s something in him that’s pulled towards him, that feels some sort of strange, unnerving camaraderie with the statement, though he doesn’t know why. There’s just a well of sorrow at the thought, his throat working to swallow, stiff with breath; it isn’t the sort of confession he’s expecting, but he’s not unused to mention of murder, and death.
He’s killed plenty of people, he thinks. He has no right to judge anyone there. ]
…We’ll take this. [ —-is what he says lowly, carefully, to the merchant; the stranger is gripping the amulet hard enough to maybe even cut himself on the corners of it, and firmly, Cloud reaches out with one gloved hand to lay it over the stranger’s, working his fingers apart to reveal the amulet within them. ] Thanks.
[ The merchant gingerly takes the amulet from the stranger’s palm and begins to wrap it up for them—-clearing his throat, Cloud withdraws his hand, arms folding loosely against his chest as they wait. ]
I don’t think you’re crazy, and I don’t think that charm is going to help with any of that. No one can help you forgive yourself but you, in the end, though…
[ A soft breath, through his nose. His memories prickle, thoughts that sting at his eyes, threaten with a headache—- ] Having a friend helps. You have a place to stay, here? Someone to keep an eye on you?