There is nothing left for them - not in their own world. Their only option is to return to oblivion and await a more satisfying escape, or to move on, declare all that they sacrificed meaningless, and accept a happy ending they never earned or asked for.]
I died a long time ago, driven to a purpose that I believed in.
I never asked to return. Now I stand here with a stolen body, a stolen soul - and a second chance that I alone got.
What would you do? If you were in my shoes? If there was nothing left of the world you once fought for, not even the memory of it or a legacy to protect? Do you think you could move on?
[They look up at her, and there is a look of genuine vulnerability in their eyes.
There is a profound despair in the hollow violence of their soul, but more than that there is a feeling they didn't know they knew anymore.
no subject
* Despite everything, it's still you.
There is nothing left for them - not in their own world. Their only option is to return to oblivion and await a more satisfying escape, or to move on, declare all that they sacrificed meaningless, and accept a happy ending they never earned or asked for.]
I died a long time ago, driven to a purpose that I believed in.
I never asked to return. Now I stand here with a stolen body, a stolen soul - and a second chance that I alone got.
What would you do? If you were in my shoes? If there was nothing left of the world you once fought for, not even the memory of it or a legacy to protect? Do you think you could move on?
[They look up at her, and there is a look of genuine vulnerability in their eyes.
There is a profound despair in the hollow violence of their soul, but more than that there is a feeling they didn't know they knew anymore.
Fear.]