[I'm afraid I can't answer your question, she says, and almost he wants to push her for it, to reiterate that it's her answer he wants, the meaning she's found among all this. An outside perspective, as it were. But it wouldn't mean anything, would it? That's what she's saying, he thinks. She may have already found her peace or her torment inside these cold and eerie corridors, but it wouldn't be the same for him.
He still can't decide which is worse-- finding them in here, any of them, that soon they may wake and things will return to the way they had always been, only in a different setting, a different shape. Or finding out that they're nowhere at all.
Both possibilities crush and compel him. Without them, what purpose would he have? Would he need one? And with them-- well. There's only the long bleak slide into oblivion that he both fears and longs for.
And so he answers with a sardonic drawl, voice slipperysmooth but bitter.]
Waiting. That's if they're here at all, hahah.
[And in his tone there are traces of his ambivalence, making it that much clearer that he doesn't know, really, what he wants to find in here.]
no subject
He still can't decide which is worse-- finding them in here, any of them, that soon they may wake and things will return to the way they had always been, only in a different setting, a different shape. Or finding out that they're nowhere at all.
Both possibilities crush and compel him. Without them, what purpose would he have? Would he need one? And with them-- well. There's only the long bleak slide into oblivion that he both fears and longs for.
And so he answers with a sardonic drawl, voice slipperysmooth but bitter.]
Waiting. That's if they're here at all, hahah.
[And in his tone there are traces of his ambivalence, making it that much clearer that he doesn't know, really, what he wants to find in here.]