[Even without his extra senses, Koby can feel Tim's grief, his pain, his fear. There's so much inside him, so much hurt and confusion and, over it all, the desperate need to do better, be better, to help people and build something in this unsafe, unpredictable place. Tim's a good person, and he's in a place full of people who are the opposite, or are somewhere in between, or are taken and twisted and treated like puppets to fulfill some great and terrible purpose.
Or maybe it's just for fun. Maybe all this pain, all this fear, all this violence is just because they (the house, the Balfours, whoever, whatever's in charge) were bored. Maybe the grief written across Tim's face is just to satisfy some cosmic passing fancy.
Koby doesn't know. He can't know. He's tried and tried and tried to figure it out and it eludes and it escapes him. All he knows is that Tim is a good person, and that he's Koby's friend, and he's suffering. So there's a weak attempt at a smile, a gentle hand slipped across the pew, finding Tim's, covering it lightly. Koby knows: the game isn't over, and there's no role or attack attempt that would solidify his innocence. There's still a wolf out there. But he's himself, in that moment, no puppeteering, no control from malevolent forces.]
Not you. Not me. It -- touches us, yeah, but. I'm still me. You're still you. It hasn't taken that away yet, right?
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-10-24 03:49 am (UTC)Or maybe it's just for fun. Maybe all this pain, all this fear, all this violence is just because they (the house, the Balfours, whoever, whatever's in charge) were bored. Maybe the grief written across Tim's face is just to satisfy some cosmic passing fancy.
Koby doesn't know. He can't know. He's tried and tried and tried to figure it out and it eludes and it escapes him. All he knows is that Tim is a good person, and that he's Koby's friend, and he's suffering. So there's a weak attempt at a smile, a gentle hand slipped across the pew, finding Tim's, covering it lightly. Koby knows: the game isn't over, and there's no role or attack attempt that would solidify his innocence. There's still a wolf out there. But he's himself, in that moment, no puppeteering, no control from malevolent forces.]
Not you. Not me. It -- touches us, yeah, but. I'm still me. You're still you. It hasn't taken that away yet, right?