[ a quiet guess considering the phrasing. the circumstances from today feel almost too on the nose, a phoenix from the ashes. they just keep holding that hand, because what else are they going to do? nothing. there's not much else they want to do for the moment. ]
[ the other hand shifts to just. cover his now. trapped. holding gentle, holding steady. their eyes glance at the remnants of gregor's own trials from this week. everything's fucked. thanks. ]
[ they sure do, and by the time it's all over, they're shaking their head slowly because no. no, he's right she deserves this chance. she doesn't deserve anything like that, to be killed so suddenly, to be used so brutally. ]
... Oh... wh... Gregor...
[ a shake of the head, trying to extricate the anguished sounds from gregor from his mind. it's piercing, it's unfair (it's always unfair.) they shift, they place a hand then softly on his shoulder, the other still holding his fingers tightly, because what do you say to that? you let the ash from the cigarette burn and you let the smoke rise. you shake quietly in rage. undeserved. ]
[his turn. his human hand is a little shaky in io's hold, and he doesn't really have it in him to pull away from their hand on his shoulder; luckily, having only one normal hand has meant he's pretty used to exhaling smoke without dropping the cigarette from his mouth, a slow cloud making its way upward after another inhale.]
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[ a quiet guess considering the phrasing. the circumstances from today feel almost too on the nose, a phoenix from the ashes. they just keep holding that hand, because what else are they going to do? nothing. there's not much else they want to do for the moment. ]
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[he couldn't stop it. he couldn't save her.
...just like today.
his grip on their hand is a little tighter.]
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Salt in the wound.
[ the other hand shifts to just. cover his now. trapped. holding gentle, holding steady. their eyes glance at the remnants of gregor's own trials from this week. everything's fucked. thanks. ]
You don't need to answer this, but... how...?
[ they will ask, they will offer. ]
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and just as the void briefly provided before, he doesn't need to say anything.
they get to see it, instead. (to 1:53:15)]
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... Oh... wh... Gregor...
[ a shake of the head, trying to extricate the anguished sounds from gregor from his mind. it's piercing, it's unfair (it's always unfair.) they shift, they place a hand then softly on his shoulder, the other still holding his fingers tightly, because what do you say to that? you let the ash from the cigarette burn and you let the smoke rise. you shake quietly in rage. undeserved. ]
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[his turn. his human hand is a little shaky in io's hold, and he doesn't really have it in him to pull away from their hand on his shoulder; luckily, having only one normal hand has meant he's pretty used to exhaling smoke without dropping the cigarette from his mouth, a slow cloud making its way upward after another inhale.]
That's why--
She has to make it out.
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Whatever it takes.
I will do whatever it takes. For her. And for you too. So don't be an idiot... alright?
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I will manage fine, Gregor, this is not my first time.
[ glancing upwards, a tired look. ]
I will do as much here as I would have done for anyone back home.
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[io.]
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Sleep will find me... I'm sure.
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I rather hate sleep, but... I can try to be a bit better.