It's been a long time, time longer still of loops they don't remember, to spend in a series of ordeals. One after another these deaths and revelations have poked and prodded and torn at his spirit, but each time he's bounced back. Even when he lost the remaining half of his precious roommates, he scrounged up what strength was left in him to press onward. It's not so dissimilar to their investigation into Nova, when he stood on the precipice of a broken spirit but was pulled back at the last moment.
That story had ended with trust and camaraderie, lighting a flame of hope in his heart.
But this—this cracks it.
Cain's expression twists. He hates what he hears. He hates these what ifs as much as the ones in the photography room, even though these are decidedly brighter than the ones hanging in the dark. He hates that all of the choices Hwylryn could have made, the ones he's chosen have led them here.
Tears pool in his eyes, but gravity can't keep them there. One, two beads, tiny droplets of mana, rain onto Hwylryn's face.
His voice shakes. He tugs at the fraying strings keeping his heart together to make himself intelligible. ]
This was the another time.
[ Like Hwylryn—indicative of the magic they share, a faint bond of their homeworld—the concept of time as something to manipulate evades him. Hwylryn's story had long finished in his book, another in a long line of adversaries the sage's wizards had faced. Not once did he ever think he'd meet him again. Not once did he ever think he'd ever have the opportunity to get to know him better, extend a hand in a show of trust. ]
We had this second chance, and you...you...
[ ...didn't take it.
More than anything, that's what breaks his heart the most. ]
me typoing that sfx like a pro
It's been a long time, time longer still of loops they don't remember, to spend in a series of ordeals. One after another these deaths and revelations have poked and prodded and torn at his spirit, but each time he's bounced back. Even when he lost the remaining half of his precious roommates, he scrounged up what strength was left in him to press onward. It's not so dissimilar to their investigation into Nova, when he stood on the precipice of a broken spirit but was pulled back at the last moment.
That story had ended with trust and camaraderie, lighting a flame of hope in his heart.
But this—this cracks it.
Cain's expression twists. He hates what he hears. He hates these what ifs as much as the ones in the photography room, even though these are decidedly brighter than the ones hanging in the dark. He hates that all of the choices Hwylryn could have made, the ones he's chosen have led them here.
Tears pool in his eyes, but gravity can't keep them there. One, two beads, tiny droplets of mana, rain onto Hwylryn's face.
His voice shakes. He tugs at the fraying strings keeping his heart together to make himself intelligible. ]
This was the another time.
[ Like Hwylryn—indicative of the magic they share, a faint bond of their homeworld—the concept of time as something to manipulate evades him. Hwylryn's story had long finished in his book, another in a long line of adversaries the sage's wizards had faced. Not once did he ever think he'd meet him again. Not once did he ever think he'd ever have the opportunity to get to know him better, extend a hand in a show of trust. ]
We had this second chance, and you...you...
[ ...didn't take it.
More than anything, that's what breaks his heart the most. ]