( the silence is loud enough to ring in one's ears, either triggering tinnitus that had already etched itself on their inner mechanisms or simulating it in those that had been spared the damage and annoyance. john is likely far more accustomed to it than vander, all things considered — ensconced in its lower levels and situated between the Magnus Institute and the warren of labyrinthine subterranean tunnels which stretched beneath the city, the Archives were a place of quiet (typically, at least). sometimes it had felt like an island in the middle of one of the biggest and busiest cities in the world, though as time passed, it had become more like one that he and his had been purposefully stranded on. he likes silence less and less. there is something about it which makes him think of unseen machinations, of strings being pulled in secret; he would trade it any day for the low, everyday thrum of activity, of purposeful footsteps and muffled, distant conversation. something which gave him the impression of standing with a united front, even after it had crumbled under pressure and opportunity.

he needs to stop thinking of them. he thought he would do so less, the longer he spent here in kenos, but... it feels as though it's the opposite that is happening. he tries to wipe the slate of his mind clean, tries to focus on the matter at hand —

john breathes out a sigh, and the thin shoulders beneath the oversized coat fall along with the escaping breath. he seems to understand, and he gives a firm nod. ) That's... good to hear.

( there's tension around his eyes, threaten to spiderweb into creases that would form lines over time, allowing age to inscribe him physically with the weight of his concerns and worries (would it? is he even going to age the way that he is now?). he might not have been one of the ones that had rescued vander personally, but he had been within the facility. he had seen the creatures kept there, but worse, he had heard manon's statement — he had felt the real and present horror of what he had been subjected to. it had pained him to think the compassionate man that had helped pull him free from the earth and get him acclimated to this world could suffer a similar fate. he's certain he did not emerge from aetos' clutches unscathed (and he's ashamed to realize there's a part of him that wants to reach out at that hungrily, greedily, wanting to crack this bone for the marrow it knew it could draw from it—), but at least he's here, standing. certainly "could be worse."

john turns to regard the mug, sharply remembering what he had just discovered. he nods, hand lifting to scratch at his chin. )

"Time" has been a rather popular theme of late, hasn't it?

( because that must be what's happened here, yes? a moment, frozen in time? )

It must have something to do with the roots... the Blight, perhaps — though I've never heard it behaving in such a way... ( he's mostly just speaking through his thoughts aloud, though he does address vander a little more directly, ) They're spreading through the streets of Highstorm as well. I came to Springstar to see if the same was true... It can't mean anything good that it is.