[Anna's voice crackled in his memory, her rough tone resounding so loudly that Paul probably heard an echo of it:
'Paul took control of my body and the boat exploded.'
'You're not the boss of me.'
It was only a fragment of information. The pain of indignation and sullen fury of betrayal rang clear in those memories that slipped through Oscar's fingers before he could fully contain them. Somewhere in the ether, a clocked ticked on...
Without lungs to breath or vocal cords to speak, Oscar still somehow managed a sigh. He didn't belong in this space. He didn't know the rules. The whims of gods and kings were not as beyond his grasp as he liked to think.
He was just a consciousness caught in the void between minds and lifetimes. What did he know? Who was he to judge? And yet-- he recognized the the kind of desolation he had heard in that response. Didn't he?
It was far too much like Oz when they broke his spell.
Oscar shifted, catching the memories of the frostbitten desperation that had forced him to fight for control over his body and take a punch that wasn't intended for him before they could reach Paul.
He wasn't used to the rules of this kind of game.
Yet.
The voice he responded with was his own-- but weighed down with the exhaustion of a thousand years of struggling, as if pushing a boulder up hill for eternity. He sought to be gentle, but what came out was the cold detachment of a person that had the experience of a myriad.]
No, I don't think so. You're doing enough of that on your own.
no subject
'Paul took control of my body and the boat exploded.'
'You're not the boss of me.'
It was only a fragment of information. The pain of indignation and sullen fury of betrayal rang clear in those memories that slipped through Oscar's fingers before he could fully contain them. Somewhere in the ether, a clocked ticked on...
Without lungs to breath or vocal cords to speak, Oscar still somehow managed a sigh. He didn't belong in this space. He
didn'tknow the rules. The whims of gods and kings werenot asbeyond his graspas he liked to think.He was just a consciousness caught in the void between minds and lifetimes. What did he know? Who was he to judge? And yet-- he recognized the the kind of desolation he had heard in that response. Didn't he?
It was far too much like Oz when they broke his spell.
Oscar shifted, catching the memories of the frostbitten desperation that had forced him to fight for control over his body and take a punch that wasn't intended for him before they could reach Paul.
He wasn't used to the rules of this kind of game.
Yet.The voice he responded with was his own-- but weighed down with the exhaustion of a thousand years of struggling, as if pushing a boulder up hill for eternity. He sought to be gentle, but what came out was the cold detachment of a person that had the experience of a myriad.]
No, I don't think so. You're doing enough of that on your own.