[He's shaking so hard with this shift not just in the conversation, but in himself. In the way he let go of the fight just enough to own at least one of the many things he's afraid of deep down. And to Reaper of all people. And as Reaper speaks up again, he lets out a rough and bitter breath, because of course using himself as proof that there's life on the other side isn't exactly encouraging to him.
If he ignores that part then the rest is fine. But of course, it sticks out and he sits there tense and silent, grappling with his mind, with the way it keeps flashing back every time he tries to dig deep and overcome. Hugging himself and hunching over, he tries to just breathe through it, and it comes out shallow and ragged. Then he finds words.]
Your life on the other side isn't what I want… I already told you I don't want to be you. [His voice is scratchy sounding, like he's got a dry throat or has been sobbing. But he's just trying to keep a grip on himself and his injuries are not helping either. And with all of that, his hostility has lessened. Not disappeared, but lessened. And taking up that space is fear and exhaustion.] And I meant I'm literally not healing.
[Hands still shaking, he goes to pull off one of his gloves, and it's hard with how unsteady he is. But this is something he can focus on that's more tangible than the torrent of everything else that's more existential. When he gets his left glove off, it reveals a bandage soaked in red around the meat of his hand with a little bit of black.]
M-maybe I shouldn't be out here. But it's like you said… it focuses the mind. [He shakes his head, internally already denying the idea that it's because he's pushing himself, he'd considered that.] Something's wrong. My… my old wounds are opening up too. I dunno that any laying and staring into space is gonna help.
[A shuddered breath is let out and he lets his hand fall to his lap as he finally gets to the rest of what Reaper said. He visibly struggles internally with his conflicted and pained emotions, shaking all over. When he manages to find his voice, it's unsteady and there's a frog caught in his throat.] And… I dunno what to say to all that because I hate your guts.
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If he ignores that part then the rest is fine. But of course, it sticks out and he sits there tense and silent, grappling with his mind, with the way it keeps flashing back every time he tries to dig deep and overcome. Hugging himself and hunching over, he tries to just breathe through it, and it comes out shallow and ragged. Then he finds words.]
Your life on the other side isn't what I want… I already told you I don't want to be you. [His voice is scratchy sounding, like he's got a dry throat or has been sobbing. But he's just trying to keep a grip on himself and his injuries are not helping either. And with all of that, his hostility has lessened. Not disappeared, but lessened. And taking up that space is fear and exhaustion.] And I meant I'm literally not healing.
[Hands still shaking, he goes to pull off one of his gloves, and it's hard with how unsteady he is. But this is something he can focus on that's more tangible than the torrent of everything else that's more existential. When he gets his left glove off, it reveals a bandage soaked in red around the meat of his hand with a little bit of black.]
M-maybe I shouldn't be out here. But it's like you said… it focuses the mind. [He shakes his head, internally already denying the idea that it's because he's pushing himself, he'd considered that.] Something's wrong. My… my old wounds are opening up too. I dunno that any laying and staring into space is gonna help.
[A shuddered breath is let out and he lets his hand fall to his lap as he finally gets to the rest of what Reaper said. He visibly struggles internally with his conflicted and pained emotions, shaking all over. When he manages to find his voice, it's unsteady and there's a frog caught in his throat.] And… I dunno what to say to all that because I hate your guts.