[the room is cold and bare, like a mortuary. there is white everywhere, from the floors to everything above it; there are no walls, and there is no sky. there is just an up and a down
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[his place of rest had been a large cat bed, for it had been how he was raised and where he had fallen asleep the most comfortable (though, he might be more comfortable were she not dead and had he not failed and--). but he had been asleep for a reason, and he did not appreciate the constant badgering of a younger sibling, or the unpleasant, selfish awakening.
he had opened his eyes, only half awake, allowing himself a low hiss. but when the wailing persisted, he finally opens his eyes (though he regrets it).
he stalks over on all fours, exhaustion and anger and petty annoyance evident in his gait and his low hissing -- it was too early for human speech, after all. and if this stupid other continued, he would have to shut him up forcibly.]
[they had never been rich, and he had never had much. and though he had always longed for more, he had been taken from such poverty for a wealthy misery -- so he had resented wealth and envied his former lifestyle. a large, plush beanbag had been enough of a resting place for him, a child; red, like the rest of their beds.
though he had been the last to open his eyes, he was the least surprised or shocked. he had been asleep for a long time -- not even violet's pleas could reach him, had reached him. but now was . . . what was it?
still, he watches his second self approach the third impassively, head rested against his rest as though he were still half asleep. finally, he speaks;]
... You're not the one who decides if he dies or not.
[ah, so he had awaken them, finally. that was good, he thinks, because he doesn't want to be alone right now -- or maybe it's more like he wants to be alone more than ever. his wail continues, though it's interrupted by a self-pitying sob -- before continuing, just a little lower.
[he glances up at the first voice -- unfamiliar, yet... yes, he knew him. no, he had known him; in his slumber, they had been better acquainted, though they had never spoken. after all, they were...
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he had opened his eyes, only half awake, allowing himself a low hiss. but when the wailing persisted, he finally opens his eyes (though he regrets it).
he stalks over on all fours, exhaustion and anger and petty annoyance evident in his gait and his low hissing -- it was too early for human speech, after all. and if this stupid other continued, he would have to shut him up forcibly.]
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though he had been the last to open his eyes, he was the least surprised or shocked. he had been asleep for a long time -- not even violet's pleas could reach him, had reached him. but now was . . . what was it?
still, he watches his second self approach the third impassively, head rested against his rest as though he were still half asleep. finally, he speaks;]
... You're not the one who decides if he dies or not.
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but... "die"...]
... I...
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he frowns, dangerously.]
He's woken us up. You know what that means.
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