[There are so many things he could respond with, so many light jabs, but he doesn’t. Cayde stays silent for once in his life, lets Hank continue as he watches on. Everything that he’s saying is true, and it hits home in a way that Cayde isn’t quite expecting it to. Maybe it’s the words. Maybe it’s the way he can hear Hank’s voice crack before he abruptly changes subjects. There’s pain there, much more than he’d have expected and that in itself is cause for concern. More concern than he’s realized, he thinks.]
It isn’t all like this. Hasn’t been. This time we got fucked over, didn’t get a fighting chance and there are a lot of people mad as hell about that. As they should be.
[He exhales slowly, closing his eyes and taking a few moments to try and put his thoughts into something comprehensible to address the second part. It’s such a loaded question that it almost isn’t fair to expect him to answer, but Hank has had no way of knowing that. Right now they’re talking, they’re talking about heavy stuff and Cayde realizes belatedly that he’s been quiet for just a little too long.]
Seen similar a couple of times before. Doesn’t make this one any less bad; feels kinda wrong to try to rank them.
[More than a couple, only a few on the same scale of mass tragedy. It feels odd now, to think about. To think that out there, somewhere in the weird multiplicity of universes there are people that wouldn’t recognize the name Twilight Gap. To know that Six Fronts never happened. That Towerfall- no, that one’s too fresh he’s done thinking about the intricacies of the multiverse.
But it brings another question to mind. He’s always taken things like this as just a fact of life, no matter how horrible they are. Has Hank? Cayde’s never stopped to think too hard about it, but he knows so little about where the man is from, what his home is like. It’s a sobering thought, that he doesn’t really know much about Hank at all.]
Honestly? It’d be real nice if stuff like that took a holiday, though.
[The bed creaks as he shifts and stands, reaching over to snatch the blanket away from the wall. The carvings get a glance, but Cayde doesn’t say a thing; each to their own, everyone had their own coping mechanisms. Instead he hefts the blanket up and dares to close the distance between the both of them, working very carefully to not startle Hank in the process. He’s equally careful when he drapes the thing over Hank’s shoulders, taking great pains to make sure he doesn’t accidentally make contact.]
no subject
It isn’t all like this. Hasn’t been. This time we got fucked over, didn’t get a fighting chance and there are a lot of people mad as hell about that. As they should be.
[He exhales slowly, closing his eyes and taking a few moments to try and put his thoughts into something comprehensible to address the second part. It’s such a loaded question that it almost isn’t fair to expect him to answer, but Hank has had no way of knowing that. Right now they’re talking, they’re talking about heavy stuff and Cayde realizes belatedly that he’s been quiet for just a little too long.]
Seen similar a couple of times before. Doesn’t make this one any less bad; feels kinda wrong to try to rank them.
[More than a couple, only a few on the same scale of mass tragedy. It feels odd now, to think about. To think that out there, somewhere in the weird multiplicity of universes there are people that wouldn’t recognize the name Twilight Gap. To know that Six Fronts never happened. That Towerfall- no, that one’s too fresh he’s done thinking about the intricacies of the multiverse.
But it brings another question to mind. He’s always taken things like this as just a fact of life, no matter how horrible they are. Has Hank? Cayde’s never stopped to think too hard about it, but he knows so little about where the man is from, what his home is like. It’s a sobering thought, that he doesn’t really know much about Hank at all.]
Honestly? It’d be real nice if stuff like that took a holiday, though.
[The bed creaks as he shifts and stands, reaching over to snatch the blanket away from the wall. The carvings get a glance, but Cayde doesn’t say a thing; each to their own, everyone had their own coping mechanisms. Instead he hefts the blanket up and dares to close the distance between the both of them, working very carefully to not startle Hank in the process. He’s equally careful when he drapes the thing over Hank’s shoulders, taking great pains to make sure he doesn’t accidentally make contact.]
Figured I’d save you the trouble.