[ percy gives pause a moment from where he's rubbing his thumb raw with his forefinger. he looks over to him and lets out a soft huff. an exhale. it feels real, not pained or crushed or stifled. ]
I'll miss you, Emet-Selch, of the Convocation of Fourteen.
Wherever death takes me tomorrow.
[ softly ] If I might so bold as to think of you a dear friend...
...would that I could tell you. Would that the Underworld flowed here, and each soul within it, but my sight fails me within this prism. I cannot say for certain whither each soul departs. I know only that the apartment will be changed without yours.
[a moment's pause, quiet. his voice is low, soft just as percy's is.]
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[almost cruel to wait, when it comes to this, but. it is what it is.]
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[ he breathes in. he breathes out. his breath rasps. ]
It sounds so simple... dawn's not far... surely...
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I will stay a while. If you wish it.
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Please.
[ he whispers: ] That part keeps coming for me... the sharp parts. The hot parts. Like iron. Red hot...
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he finds a place to sit. settles in.]
I expect you will not be alone. There will be others, after me, who wish to speak.
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[ he lowers his head, his shoulders hunched forward. ]
I wish we could have out-paced it.
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'Twill be unfortunate, to lose you in particular. You have been reliable.
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I'll miss you, Emet-Selch, of the Convocation of Fourteen.
Wherever death takes me tomorrow.
[ softly ] If I might so bold as to think of you a dear friend...
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[a moment's pause, quiet. his voice is low, soft just as percy's is.]
You may, yes.
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[ he lifts his hand and wipes at his eyes underneath his broken glasses. ]
My life has become... richer for it.
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anything he can say feels as if it would be a platitude; anything else feels too genuine. he does not trust himself with it.
he simply falls silent, then-- but he stays.]