[ultimately, Yeshua was a coward and a fool. when he had the chance, he should have asked Wilhelm what he was praying for. he should have had the courage to ask about that. prayer is its own privilege, its own form of wanting, and it's an intensely private thing, yes, but Yeshua should have asked him about it anyway when it was still a thing. that's just one of the many missed opportunities that chaos can't hope to rectify now. but chaos exhales forcefully, interrupting himself. he's emptying out his lungs, and doing what he can to empty out his meandering mind, to stop thinking for the time being, so that he can better focus on what's beyond his boundaries. he doesn't need to reach through the connection gear in order to discover Wilhelm's whereabouts. when it's quiet enough, the answer can be found inside his heart, no different from his pulse; he only has to listen to what it's telling him. he closes his eyes and inhales again, slowly, deliberately, a little bit at a time...
when he opens his eyes next, he's looking out at the deepest of deep space. there are more stars than anyone could ever attempt to count--colorful nebulae, gas clouds, and twinkling planets. the only thing keeping him from joining them is the thick, heavily reinforced glass window in the way. it actually surrounds this entire room, side to side, front and back, its clear angles cut to resemble a hexagon. tilting his head, chaos looks around and realizes he's in some sort of meeting room, with a round table sitting in the center of it, intended for two. chaos most likely is intruding on some previously laid plans, and he can feel guilty for that much. that doesn't mean he's going to leave, but he's going to feel guilty about it. regretting his own existence is familiar terrain.]
Nice view, [he comments mildly.
he's an unmistakable guest for his slip of a silhouette, which never changes, ever, and he's turning around now to look at Wilhelm directly. the colors of his bodysuit are different than Wilhelm might remember, now in simplistic shades of orange and black and white, and then orange again, with the belts he favors clinging tight to his hips. (they're more like carceral straps to keep the worst of him immobilized and contained.)]
I don't think I've ever been in here. Is it someplace new?
no subject
when he opens his eyes next, he's looking out at the deepest of deep space. there are more stars than anyone could ever attempt to count--colorful nebulae, gas clouds, and twinkling planets. the only thing keeping him from joining them is the thick, heavily reinforced glass window in the way. it actually surrounds this entire room, side to side, front and back, its clear angles cut to resemble a hexagon. tilting his head, chaos looks around and realizes he's in some sort of meeting room, with a round table sitting in the center of it, intended for two. chaos most likely is intruding on some previously laid plans, and he can feel guilty for that much. that doesn't mean he's going to leave, but he's going to feel guilty about it. regretting his own existence is familiar terrain.]
Nice view, [he comments mildly.
he's an unmistakable guest for his slip of a silhouette, which never changes, ever, and he's turning around now to look at Wilhelm directly. the colors of his bodysuit are different than Wilhelm might remember, now in simplistic shades of orange and black and white, and then orange again, with the belts he favors clinging tight to his hips. (they're more like carceral straps to keep the worst of him immobilized and contained.)]
I don't think I've ever been in here. Is it someplace new?