[ Neither of them can afford to forget. There's too much at stake.
Gaelio yanking his hand back, shifting his arms, and speaking corrections through his teeth. A splash of cold ice-water, desperately needed. This was the danger, even back then. The enormity of looking, of acknowledging, that would swallow him whole and keep him from achieving what was necessary above all else to achieve. So when Gaelio corrects him, it isn't a matter of want, a striking amount of understanding lifts up and underlines those words.
They echo. He closes his mouth too tight.
It was never a matter of want. Those daydreams he used to entertain, when he was younger and able to afford it every once in a blue moon, of simply leaving. The insane notion that Gaelio might go with him, if he explained everything.
Cold settles in. There was nothing to those dreams. The only substance he could find were in the ones that he could hold without feeling them slip through his fingers like sand, and the timing of remembering is all wrong. Though -- those words, spoken through teeth gritting, and the haunting twist of Gaelio's scarred features -- it isn't about want, it isn't, and god, he does understand that.
McGillis takes a careful, steadying breath. He exhales through the nose. He notices, after a moment of delay, that his hand is still poised in the air, and he curls his fingers into a fist as he tugs it back. It hovers by his chest for another second, before he finds his way to crossing arms, mirroring Gaelio's posture and closing, closed, body language.
Go on.
Prompted to continue, but the sentences previously forming in his mind have flown away. He remembers the concepts, of course. It's the exact phrasing that escapes him for a few seconds.
An odd pause and silence quickly filling the space in between. ]
Genette mentioned that the fate of all worlds hangs in the balance with this witch's decision to take us. What if that's true? Both you and I are attempting to change the course of history itself, and now we find ourselves here. Forced into a standstill until we can return home.
[ When he does find his voice again, it's with a little too much haste in the beginning of his speech, until he settles into an even rhythm. ]
If we are meant to accomplish something for her, for ourselves, I think it must be essential to the well-being of our world. Something vaster and greater than our current understanding will allow us to see. It almost seems as though conditions have been created for us to fill in some missing step.
[ His eyes close to half-slits. As he reconsiders this line of reasoning, his chin drops again. ]
If all holds true, then the significance of our dual placement is difficult to ignore.
no subject
Gaelio yanking his hand back, shifting his arms, and speaking corrections through his teeth. A splash of cold ice-water, desperately needed. This was the danger, even back then. The enormity of looking, of acknowledging, that would swallow him whole and keep him from achieving what was necessary above all else to achieve. So when Gaelio corrects him, it isn't a matter of want, a striking amount of understanding lifts up and underlines those words.
They echo. He closes his mouth too tight.
It was never a matter of want. Those daydreams he used to entertain, when he was younger and able to afford it every once in a blue moon, of simply leaving. The insane notion that Gaelio might go with him, if he explained everything.
Cold settles in. There was nothing to those dreams. The only substance he could find were in the ones that he could hold without feeling them slip through his fingers like sand, and the timing of remembering is all wrong. Though -- those words, spoken through teeth gritting, and the haunting twist of Gaelio's scarred features -- it isn't about want, it isn't, and god, he does understand that.
McGillis takes a careful, steadying breath. He exhales through the nose. He notices, after a moment of delay, that his hand is still poised in the air, and he curls his fingers into a fist as he tugs it back. It hovers by his chest for another second, before he finds his way to crossing arms, mirroring Gaelio's posture and closing, closed, body language.
Go on.
Prompted to continue, but the sentences previously forming in his mind have flown away. He remembers the concepts, of course. It's the exact phrasing that escapes him for a few seconds.
An odd pause and silence quickly filling the space in between. ]
Genette mentioned that the fate of all worlds hangs in the balance with this witch's decision to take us. What if that's true? Both you and I are attempting to change the course of history itself, and now we find ourselves here. Forced into a standstill until we can return home.
[ When he does find his voice again, it's with a little too much haste in the beginning of his speech, until he settles into an even rhythm. ]
If we are meant to accomplish something for her, for ourselves, I think it must be essential to the well-being of our world. Something vaster and greater than our current understanding will allow us to see. It almost seems as though conditions have been created for us to fill in some missing step.
[ His eyes close to half-slits. As he reconsiders this line of reasoning, his chin drops again. ]
If all holds true, then the significance of our dual placement is difficult to ignore.