there is a door. there is a dirty, locked door in front of you, and you have been told to never open it. you follow these instructions, for some reason, even if you can't keep yourself from peeking through the peephole, sometimes. you don't open it.
except - this time, you do. this time, you open the door, and it's not what you're expecting.
it's a world on fire. it's - your world, on fire. there is no time to rest. there is no time for something simple like having a meal with the family you have pulled together. your little family of - nine? no. four. maybe more. your family that you have pulled together from high and low places, your family that loves you like you love them, your family that gives you some measure of purpose - you don't have time for this, anymore. for them. it was never about the vacation itself, not really.
(you take the exile. someone else's life is fixed. a halfling is reunited with her husband and son - or, no. that's not right. is it?)
... you drift apart, because it is necessary. the world is being ripped to shreds, and you have to stop it. this is your responsibility now.
but it wears on you. you are alone, these days. you're alone, and exhausted, and the world is unkind. you miss the people who loved you for you. you miss the people who didn't care about how good you could fight, but cared about your day or your life. it gets hard to care about what you're doing, without the promise of something normal at the end.
and so the world continues to die, and you lose what's left of yourself. you get vicious. you get cruel. and eventually, you lose the thing you never wanted to lose - your heart. you gave that away, you know? your family, your friends? you gave it away. you are no longer human, and it shows.
there's nothing left. so you rev your chainsaw, and you destroy the world yourself. you die, alone.
and then you wake up, in a grave. a familiar coat whips in the cold winter wind above your head, and it's the last thing you see.]
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no subject
Then it's a contract.
If you're not full of shit, you make it so that everyone goes home. And if they don't, I get my vacation back.
Deal?
no subject
[she says, holding out her hand in return. she will wait for him to take it.]
no subject
C'mon shake my hand don't make this weird.
no subject
time freezes.
there is a door. there is a dirty, locked door in front of you, and you have been told to never open it. you follow these instructions, for some reason, even if you can't keep yourself from peeking through the peephole, sometimes. you don't open it.
except - this time, you do. this time, you open the door, and it's not what you're expecting.
it's a world on fire. it's - your world, on fire. there is no time to rest. there is no time for something simple like having a meal with the family you have pulled together. your little family of - nine? no. four. maybe more. your family that you have pulled together from high and low places, your family that loves you like you love them, your family that gives you some measure of purpose - you don't have time for this, anymore. for them. it was never about the vacation itself, not really.
(you take the exile. someone else's life is fixed. a halfling is reunited with her husband and son - or, no. that's not right. is it?)
... you drift apart, because it is necessary. the world is being ripped to shreds, and you have to stop it. this is your responsibility now.
but it wears on you. you are alone, these days. you're alone, and exhausted, and the world is unkind. you miss the people who loved you for you. you miss the people who didn't care about how good you could fight, but cared about your day or your life. it gets hard to care about what you're doing, without the promise of something normal at the end.
and so the world continues to die, and you lose what's left of yourself. you get vicious. you get cruel. and eventually, you lose the thing you never wanted to lose - your heart. you gave that away, you know? your family, your friends? you gave it away. you are no longer human, and it shows.
there's nothing left. so you rev your chainsaw, and you destroy the world yourself. you die, alone.
and then you wake up, in a grave. a familiar coat whips in the cold winter wind above your head, and it's the last thing you see.]