[ Mogget drills to the pith of his problem, dipping Soren into addled contemplation again as he tries for what seems the hundredth time to sort something out that he had already set into place.
He is not here, but he wants him to be. He always had. What feels as far away ago as years yet as soon as yesterday, he had hallucinated his presence in this world with such harsh lucidity, and time after time he had tried to dismiss it as his heart leading his Bondless, moon-crazed mind down a spiral of purposeless madness. At times like these, he wonders about that. Wonders if the man who snuck flowers in his hair really had seen Ike in those dreams, wonders what happened to him there... and now that he's recovering from tainted memories, wonders whether he died there or here, has trouble separating truth from fiction... he can't even believe what he thinks is right anymore. Was he here all along?
The fierce dragon begins to quiver. The urge to go "home" arises, but he can't quite pinpoint where "home" might be. The time of the month complicates things further. He sighs to self-sooth, to shake the mounting anxiety from caving him in, and sharp claws grip the side of his arm. ]
... You have the right of it. No matter what I tell myself, what reason I wield, my doubts continue to resurface. I'm no good this way. I... can't do anything. I cannot even exist peacefully. I want... to go to sleep. Before I make another stupid, crazy mistake.
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[ Mogget drills to the pith of his problem, dipping Soren into addled contemplation again as he tries for what seems the hundredth time to sort something out that he had already set into place.
He is not here, but he wants him to be. He always had. What feels as far away ago as years yet as soon as yesterday, he had hallucinated his presence in this world with such harsh lucidity, and time after time he had tried to dismiss it as his heart leading his Bondless, moon-crazed mind down a spiral of purposeless madness. At times like these, he wonders about that. Wonders if the man who snuck flowers in his hair really had seen Ike in those dreams, wonders what happened to him there... and now that he's recovering from tainted memories, wonders whether he died there or here, has trouble separating truth from fiction... he can't even believe what he thinks is right anymore. Was he here all along?
The fierce dragon begins to quiver. The urge to go "home" arises, but he can't quite pinpoint where "home" might be. The time of the month complicates things further. He sighs to self-sooth, to shake the mounting anxiety from caving him in, and sharp claws grip the side of his arm. ]
... You have the right of it. No matter what I tell myself, what reason I wield, my doubts continue to resurface. I'm no good this way. I... can't do anything. I cannot even exist peacefully. I want... to go to sleep. Before I make another stupid, crazy mistake.