( perhaps he should be grimly grateful for all of the terror and harrowing ordeals he had weathered while working in the Archives prior to coming there — they had, after all, at the very least prepared him for situations like this. not to say he's entirely prepared, of course; the intrinsic horror of their situation does not escape him (he might actually be the one best-equipped to see it, to feel it, to have a finger to its very skipping pulse each second of every day), but he feels strangely removed from it. by this point he has traded much of his Meridian energy away and has felt assuaged by the sensation of Zenith which flows in to take its place. being trapped in these tunnels is not ideal, yes, but he is certain it could be far worse. even though his body seems to remember its need for food and water, these needs scratching at the back of his mind seem like dull and distant echoes from the true hunger that the Eye imposes — having taken not only silco's statement but also having read link's prior to aetos' voice calling them all out from their version of kenos, he's rather satisfied in that regard.
so he is, perhaps, insulated from many aspects of how terrible things have gotten down here. or perhaps, after recovering from his own death recently, he has felt only barely tethered to his own sensibilities of humanity — it makes it harder to feel all of those things, running fraught throughout the Shard-Bearers as they are. it makes it harder to care, but for those he already has a vested interest in or those that intersect with his very specific ideals.
he hasn't met this young man in person, but he is one of those people who falls under these specifications. he is drawn to others who hail from worlds and backgrounds similar to his own — those that had already ended, by most's approximation — darkly intrigued by how they sought to deal with it. and, more often than not, how it differed from his own.
link doesn't look well. really, that's a bit of an understatement, but having likely seen glimpses of him in the last few days, he can tell he has only gotten worse. john's feeling of human sympathy might be dulled by his Discord and everything else, but he still feels a pang of something resonate in his heart for the young man; he has already tasted his fear, felt it for himself... it's a bond, to him, stronger than even Communion, and it is far more difficult to drown out. )
We've spoken. You - you offered your fear to me, when I asked. ( always a weird thing to say, but it's the truth. he steps forward, rounding around so that he is slightly more illuminated by some dimly florescent fungi nearby.
even though he does so, his eyes still seem so dark; pits of shadow carved out beneath his brow, endlessly deep and ceaselessly watchful. ) Link, are you - ah, well, I know you're not well. ( he frowns slightly. ) Is there anything I can do to help?
( he certainly owes the young man for his kindness in sending him a statement. )
no subject
so he is, perhaps, insulated from many aspects of how terrible things have gotten down here. or perhaps, after recovering from his own death recently, he has felt only barely tethered to his own sensibilities of humanity — it makes it harder to feel all of those things, running fraught throughout the Shard-Bearers as they are. it makes it harder to care, but for those he already has a vested interest in or those that intersect with his very specific ideals.
he hasn't met this young man in person, but he is one of those people who falls under these specifications. he is drawn to others who hail from worlds and backgrounds similar to his own — those that had already ended, by most's approximation — darkly intrigued by how they sought to deal with it. and, more often than not, how it differed from his own.
link doesn't look well. really, that's a bit of an understatement, but having likely seen glimpses of him in the last few days, he can tell he has only gotten worse. john's feeling of human sympathy might be dulled by his Discord and everything else, but he still feels a pang of something resonate in his heart for the young man; he has already tasted his fear, felt it for himself... it's a bond, to him, stronger than even Communion, and it is far more difficult to drown out. )
We've spoken. You - you offered your fear to me, when I asked. ( always a weird thing to say, but it's the truth. he steps forward, rounding around so that he is slightly more illuminated by some dimly florescent fungi nearby.
even though he does so, his eyes still seem so dark; pits of shadow carved out beneath his brow, endlessly deep and ceaselessly watchful. ) Link, are you - ah, well, I know you're not well. ( he frowns slightly. ) Is there anything I can do to help?
( he certainly owes the young man for his kindness in sending him a statement. )