[ He was dead. He was dead, and it wasn't a vial that brought him back. Was he right all along? Is this actually Hell? He'd never given much credence to the idea of an afterlife, or gods, or any of that shit -- it was just the cultists worshipping Knives, and that man wasn't any kind of god that Wolfwood was going to believe in. But how else to explain multiple versions of people, traveling long distances as if by magic, and coming back from the dead?
He shivers again, watching Blondie's fingers working over his own. ]
No.
[ He doesn't need water. He needs answers, and there aren't any to be had. Blondie here at least seems real enough, but what's real in a world where death isn't permanent? Where gods show up as children? Where nightmares can actually hurt you?
He runs his free hand over his face and, with a slow exhale, forces his breathing to even out. ]
no subject
He shivers again, watching Blondie's fingers working over his own. ]
No.
[ He doesn't need water. He needs answers, and there aren't any to be had. Blondie here at least seems real enough, but what's real in a world where death isn't permanent? Where gods show up as children? Where nightmares can actually hurt you?
He runs his free hand over his face and, with a slow exhale, forces his breathing to even out. ]
This place is really starting to get to me.