[with her, anywhere, everywhere. the best she can do is: ] everywhere else?
[ that's a sizeable space to cover. that's an impossible ask, it's too vague, it's meaningless, but she appreciates him anyway. she sends the appreciation through; a squeeze to his hand, a kiss to his cheek. all impressions, all lovelovelove.
later - hours, maybe a day, she says with more finality: ] I think he's really gone.
[ Billy asks around, feels uncertain while he does it, like someone's going to ask: What's it to you? Mostly though, VT or local shrug in response. The old ladies titter over their canning, He hasn't come by, they say. Oh, he's not answering, another says, worried, she's the one who's sure he looked like her departed husband. Sometimes you Void Touched... you go off, a third says, sadly, uncertainly. She pats his arm and it feels cheap, because she should be gripping Jem's arm, or one of the others, someone who 'got' the God Emperor.
Later: ] When we fucked with the tattoos... [ sorry, Eddie. ] It would've worked... until it came back. The monster kept them connected. Or the caves. They were weird.
[ That doesn't feel good either though. The thought that John's in a cave or mark-less somehow or... ]
[It feels like the kind of thing she said, once, when Kieren was missing. He'll be back later, you'll see and yeah, yeah of course, maybe, yeah. She doesn't think John's coming back; she thinks, truthfully, that if he could, he'd be here right now. That House wouldn't be in pain, that Danny wouldn't be pacing the length of the cabin looking for things to do, his eyes on them, never straying, never leaving.
In Eudio, when people left, they always said goodbye. She always knew; she always expected it. This feels like a loss. This feels like grief all over again. ]
We'll probably go to the gates on the first, just on the off chance she has him. But he's - he can't die. He doesn't die like we do. [She hasn't cried yet. That's something. ] Maybe - maybe don't tell anyone, just yet. Just in case.
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He's not emotive like Eddie, not about this. ] where do you want me?
[ If she wants him to look, he'll look. ]
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[ that's a sizeable space to cover. that's an impossible ask, it's too vague, it's meaningless, but she appreciates him anyway. she sends the appreciation through; a squeeze to his hand, a kiss to his cheek. all impressions, all lovelovelove.
later - hours, maybe a day, she says with more finality: ] I think he's really gone.
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Later: ] When we fucked with the tattoos... [ sorry, Eddie. ] It would've worked... until it came back. The monster kept them connected. Or the caves. They were weird.
[ That doesn't feel good either though. The thought that John's in a cave or mark-less somehow or... ]
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[It feels like the kind of thing she said, once, when Kieren was missing. He'll be back later, you'll see and yeah, yeah of course, maybe, yeah. She doesn't think John's coming back; she thinks, truthfully, that if he could, he'd be here right now. That House wouldn't be in pain, that Danny wouldn't be pacing the length of the cabin looking for things to do, his eyes on them, never straying, never leaving.
In Eudio, when people left, they always said goodbye. She always knew; she always expected it. This feels like a loss. This feels like grief all over again. ]
We'll probably go to the gates on the first, just on the off chance she has him. But he's - he can't die. He doesn't die like we do. [She hasn't cried yet. That's something. ] Maybe - maybe don't tell anyone, just yet. Just in case.