[The part of him that wants to argue is drowned out by his wish to stop. He lifts his head just barely, blearily watching Kurt's approach just past his clawed fingers.]
I don't want... to be more.
[He'd chipped away at himself for so long, only ever playing the parts he felt he needed to play, grinding away any aspect of himself that got in the way because it didn't matter, in the end—it was going to be over, anyway. Until he came here, and it wasn't. But still he continued as he has been, because... why?
Because... of people like Kurt, wasn't it. Young people forced to fight, never given a chance to escape that fate through no fault of their own. He'd wanted to end that, even if only for his own world. He thinks—Kurt reminds him of one of them, the children who've been put in his way. The fiery one who works so hard to be cheerful because so many of his friends can be so grim.
Despite his voiced rejection and the way his eyes slide off of Kurt's face to gaze at a spot in the pockmarked street, one or two wisps of shadow that rise off of him in small spots reveal something much more solid than shade—the familiar coloring of the man instead of darkness and absence.]
no subject
I don't want... to be more.
[He'd chipped away at himself for so long, only ever playing the parts he felt he needed to play, grinding away any aspect of himself that got in the way because it didn't matter, in the end—it was going to be over, anyway. Until he came here, and it wasn't. But still he continued as he has been, because... why?
Because... of people like Kurt, wasn't it. Young people forced to fight, never given a chance to escape that fate through no fault of their own. He'd wanted to end that, even if only for his own world. He thinks—Kurt reminds him of one of them, the children who've been put in his way. The fiery one who works so hard to be cheerful because so many of his friends can be so grim.
Despite his voiced rejection and the way his eyes slide off of Kurt's face to gaze at a spot in the pockmarked street, one or two wisps of shadow that rise off of him in small spots reveal something much more solid than shade—the familiar coloring of the man instead of darkness and absence.]