[Audio]
[Filtered to Family, Fake Family, and Self]
[There's clattering. He's fixing some of the things that are broken around his room.] I've never taken well to being left behind. Sometimes I know it's for the best, but it still wears at me. Especially if I know I didn't want to leave, or I felt like I failed someone.
That's how these absences are leaving me feeling. As if these people have been stripped away. It's also frightening. This body I'm in... it's clumsy, awkward, weak, practically negligible in a conflict. It can manage some swordplay and trickery, a few good games of cricket. But it can barely take a blow without rendering me unconscious.
...I'm not done with it, though. As lamentable an admission that is. I know I'm about to regenerate, and if I'm abruptly returned, I won't be me any more. I'll- honestly, I believe I'm turning into what Benny always wanted, rather than what I am properly. This current body, though, was forged out of a tight friendship I had with another companion. Melanie Bush, who also had a particular knack for turning toward the troubled and ill-tempered and searching for the best in them.
And she was a person that I met before I met her. At my own trial, where Mel was forced to take the stand and speak about me and I hadn't a clue who she was at the time.
Everything is all out of order and wrong. My last memories of Sexby [clang clang clang] relate to the battering of the Marquis, and his poor reasoning behind his actions. Memories of what is now his future. Yet here he is, supposedly being redeemed though obviously that rampant hostility won't be completely wrung from his system. ["R"s. All of the "r"s are happening.
There's a slump. And a rustle of cloth. He's sitting.] I want to make a counselling centre as a part of the infirmary, but perhaps I'm in need of my own reassurance that we're doing the right thing. That for the greater good, we are doing what is necessary. That it's worth it, for them to be trapped here, for my inmate to be trapped here, and be given and stripped of the people that he loves. Watching good women ruin themselves, because they keep losing people.
[He's rambling. Really... he just wanted someone to talk to.]
[There's clattering. He's fixing some of the things that are broken around his room.] I've never taken well to being left behind. Sometimes I know it's for the best, but it still wears at me. Especially if I know I didn't want to leave, or I felt like I failed someone.
That's how these absences are leaving me feeling. As if these people have been stripped away. It's also frightening. This body I'm in... it's clumsy, awkward, weak, practically negligible in a conflict. It can manage some swordplay and trickery, a few good games of cricket. But it can barely take a blow without rendering me unconscious.
...I'm not done with it, though. As lamentable an admission that is. I know I'm about to regenerate, and if I'm abruptly returned, I won't be me any more. I'll- honestly, I believe I'm turning into what Benny always wanted, rather than what I am properly. This current body, though, was forged out of a tight friendship I had with another companion. Melanie Bush, who also had a particular knack for turning toward the troubled and ill-tempered and searching for the best in them.
And she was a person that I met before I met her. At my own trial, where Mel was forced to take the stand and speak about me and I hadn't a clue who she was at the time.
Everything is all out of order and wrong. My last memories of Sexby [clang clang clang] relate to the battering of the Marquis, and his poor reasoning behind his actions. Memories of what is now his future. Yet here he is, supposedly being redeemed though obviously that rampant hostility won't be completely wrung from his system. ["R"s. All of the "r"s are happening.
There's a slump. And a rustle of cloth. He's sitting.] I want to make a counselling centre as a part of the infirmary, but perhaps I'm in need of my own reassurance that we're doing the right thing. That for the greater good, we are doing what is necessary. That it's worth it, for them to be trapped here, for my inmate to be trapped here, and be given and stripped of the people that he loves. Watching good women ruin themselves, because they keep losing people.
[He's rambling. Really... he just wanted someone to talk to.]