[ A twinge of regret, almost, at the way Oz's smile falters and fades like a dying candle. But questions like these are answered as much by act and tone as by word, and so the reply, though not the most comforting, at least feels solid to Chrys.
Indirect strikes. Tampering with past and time. He'd wondered, a few times since the first day, what purpose drawing one like him (and of what relicquated knowledge, skill, everything compared to all this) could serve, but in the light of what their true work involved... one could begrudgingly admit they could likely use someone like him. Even if in the last month the days had passed in little more than a blur of aimless training and reading and wandering about the city. A grey sabbatical.
But they'd fought, these people. These ones who'd been here far longer than him. (Thinks of Chrono-- you can see it in their faces-- and cold text on a screen, news of a failure of a mission, a world destroyed.)
He nods slowly. ]
...apologies aren't necessary. It was an honest answer.
no subject
Indirect strikes. Tampering with past and time. He'd wondered, a few times since the first day, what purpose drawing one like him (and of what relicquated knowledge, skill, everything compared to all this) could serve, but in the light of what their true work involved... one could begrudgingly admit they could likely use someone like him. Even if in the last month the days had passed in little more than a blur of aimless training and reading and wandering about the city. A grey sabbatical.
But they'd fought, these people. These ones who'd been here far longer than him. (Thinks of Chrono-- you can see it in their faces-- and cold text on a screen, news of a failure of a mission, a world destroyed.)
He nods slowly. ]
...apologies aren't necessary. It was an honest answer.