[there is shake in his shoulders as the coat is put around him – a part of him dimly surprised with how this has affected him, how skilfully this has dredged up memories he thought long since buried. Leaning into the older man, his strong shoulders, it is only partly out of playing along. A bigger part of it is relief, his legs shaky as he is led through the crowd.
His heart is racing, but it will settle. He will be all right.]
Thank you, sir.
[Softly, still, with a furtive glace around lest they be overheard - lest he be recognised as a prisoner, as a defector, or a traitor, or for whatever reason else it was that so many people had been gathered for this bleak procession, this wretched ceremony.]
no subject
His heart is racing, but it will settle. He will be all right.]
Thank you, sir.
[Softly, still, with a furtive glace around lest they be overheard - lest he be recognised as a prisoner, as a defector, or a traitor, or for whatever reason else it was that so many people had been gathered for this bleak procession, this wretched ceremony.]
Might I… may I ask your name?