Maybe it's for the best that he's gotten used to dissecting the abstractions in their phraseology. He only has to digest that for a moment before his gaze slides away from them, and he looks out across the surrounding greenery. Trying not to look - mournful.
They wouldn't want that. Wouldn't want anyone to miss their existence. He still remembers, sure, but for how long? None of this feels real, exactly.
Maybe they're just a product of a depraved mind.
"So you're not real." The words are listless, without surprise. It makes sense. They're some sort of hallucination, maybe, or a fragment of a dream. Wouldn't be the first time he's conjured up something just as implausible, in moments of mental duress.
no subject
Maybe it's for the best that he's gotten used to dissecting the abstractions in their phraseology. He only has to digest that for a moment before his gaze slides away from them, and he looks out across the surrounding greenery. Trying not to look - mournful.
They wouldn't want that. Wouldn't want anyone to miss their existence. He still remembers, sure, but for how long? None of this feels real, exactly.
Maybe they're just a product of a depraved mind.
"So you're not real." The words are listless, without surprise. It makes sense. They're some sort of hallucination, maybe, or a fragment of a dream. Wouldn't be the first time he's conjured up something just as implausible, in moments of mental duress.