but io doesn't really get an answer, because with this particular gregor, of course there's one particular memory they'll end up in the void with. (runs to 1:32:04.)
(once it's done, evidently the 6 hours are up, because they're here with normal gregor, who still looks kind of disoriented.)]
[ man we were gonna have a cool sandwich time even but now we're here, first in a war - where the sounds are jarringly familiar in a way, where immediately their heart is stricken cold with fear, only to find themself then flung into a dream, a nightmare - the blue walls of a room, the singular crimson dot of an apple. the encouragement to cut again and again and again. io opens their mouth - maybe to speak, maybe to just breathe because they've forgotten how in the moment. only softly - ]
Gregor -
[ and then, the void decides that it craves more of the very same.
[it's-- raw, is maybe the best way to describe something like that. imagery that lingers with him even after the memory fades, the sensation of cutting and of dying, of not being allowed to stay that way-
and oh, does he know what that's like. it's his whole job. throw your life away in pursuit of the goal, if you must, because it doesn't matter. you'll be dragged right out of hell again, and again, and again and again and again-
gregor struggles a little more than usual to pull himself out of this one, but he does, glancing over with wide eyes.]
[ io just slowly grips the back of the couch for a moment, fingertips digging in tightly. the memory is a wound rubbed in salt, sewn up again with plaything's yarn, coupled with another's that runs in a jagged path near parallel.
looking at him a moment, io takes a little while to work the voice out of their throat. ]
[ leaning back into the couch with a long breath, the question takes a moment to register, but they look to him eventually, eyes kind of scanning a moment. ]
Not exactly something I like having in common.
[ what about hobbies. what about favorite flavors of ice cream. not nightmarish memories of that turn out like this. their gaze shifts, tired, he can still see it, blue, blue, blue. it's stifling. a quiet rage simmers, but never leaves them, their voice soft as they shift to hold their head in one hand. ]
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[and in his free time it's not like he really gets to hang out. he's mostly resting.]
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I can offer you a card game, or company... or I can offer you food, if you're hungry... or I am content with silence.
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but io doesn't really get an answer, because with this particular gregor, of course there's one particular memory they'll end up in the void with. (runs to 1:32:04.)
(once it's done, evidently the 6 hours are up, because they're here with normal gregor, who still looks kind of disoriented.)]
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Gregor -
[ and then, the void decides that it craves more of the very same.
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and oh, does he know what that's like. it's his whole job. throw your life away in pursuit of the goal, if you must, because it doesn't matter. you'll be dragged right out of hell again, and again, and again and again and again-
gregor struggles a little more than usual to pull himself out of this one, but he does, glancing over with wide eyes.]
...Io?
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looking at him a moment, io takes a little while to work the voice out of their throat. ]
... You're bigger again.
[ THAT'S WHAT YOU SAY FIRST? anyways. ]
... You okay?
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[rubbing at his face, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. god, he needs one right now.]
...you too, huh.
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Not exactly something I like having in common.
[ what about hobbies. what about favorite flavors of ice cream. not nightmarish memories of that turn out like this. their gaze shifts, tired, he can still see it, blue, blue, blue. it's stifling. a quiet rage simmers, but never leaves them, their voice soft as they shift to hold their head in one hand. ]
Feels like hell... take it easy...
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[also he was just 14 again for several hours. god. what a couple of days it's been.]
We both have.
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[ you really were 14 like a couple minutes ago they will not forget that. it makes it worse to think about. ]
May I ask... Who was that... who put you through that? Who did that to you?
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[gesturing to the arm, before his gaze flicks over to the tattoo on his arm.]
...her name's Hermann. Used to be a director of G Corp, before it fell-- she's the one who operated on me.
She came out better than just about anyone else, after the former G Corp went under. Still around, still... just as powerful as she was then.
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Testing and training...
[ they glance toward the other arm briefly but just settle back. ] That as well?
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[lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag.]
...Ungeziefer. Vermin, in our language.
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I keep thinking the world can't get crueler, that maybe it's reached its limit.
[ for anyone, here, home, all-encompassing. ]
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[there aren't limits for that.]
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Call me foolishly hopeful.
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... we're still going, though.
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[ a faint, tight smile. ]
And I'm glad for that. For us both. These things, they make up a part of us, terrible though they are. We can use that.