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[Warren might've said that but it wasn't intended to hurt him. Different approaches make for the best strategy meeting. If at first you don't succeed try something new, fool! Or in this case, someone new.
The wee one is brave, and Warren says so. Among other child-appropriate praise. How good they are to keep Eggs company when he feels sad. How strong and kind to stay together. I want to help, he says in a whisper like theirs, because my bad, scary father made me play with sweet children just like you, too.
If he can touch these heartbreaking siblings Warren will sit on the floor and gather them up in his arms like puppies. He can't exorcise these ghosts. He doesn't know if this commiseration is all for nothing.]
Have I ever told you about the time I devoured my sire?
[Casual. A fishing pond story, from the tone of his voice. A storybook reading, nothing more.]
[ oh, no no, no no they whisper. the purple man is bad too. they aren't here to keep him company, they're not watching over him. they're making sure he knows what he did, too. they're making sure he never forgets, never gets his final rest, never a moment's peace. because they're always there.
eggsy might've become used to their presence by now, after thirty some-odd years. but he still flinches at the reminder, still hides his face in something so much stronger than shame. genuinely wishing he had a stomach to throw up with. such as it is.
but, enough about eggs. the brave (so brave!) one gathers close first, appearing to sit on the checkerboard tile floor below, though it's more of a ... floating-sit. slowly, the others begin to approach as well. there's seven of them in total. five of them surround the stranger, eager to listen to storytime. the other two remain hovering closer around ol' eggsy in the back, their shapes a little more defined than the five amorphous ones. familiarity, it seems. but ignore them. tell the little ones the story. they haven't had storytime in years. ]
omg babies~ -w-
The wee one is brave, and Warren says so. Among other child-appropriate praise. How good they are to keep Eggs company when he feels sad. How strong and kind to stay together. I want to help, he says in a whisper like theirs, because my bad, scary father made me play with sweet children just like you, too.
If he can touch these heartbreaking siblings Warren will sit on the floor and gather them up in his arms like puppies. He can't exorcise these ghosts. He doesn't know if this commiseration is all for nothing.]
Have I ever told you about the time I devoured my sire?
[Casual. A fishing pond story, from the tone of his voice. A storybook reading, nothing more.]
they just need a lil nap and some vengeance
eggsy might've become used to their presence by now, after thirty some-odd years. but he still flinches at the reminder, still hides his face in something so much stronger than shame. genuinely wishing he had a stomach to throw up with. such as it is.
but, enough about eggs. the brave (so brave!) one gathers close first, appearing to sit on the checkerboard tile floor below, though it's more of a ... floating-sit. slowly, the others begin to approach as well. there's seven of them in total. five of them surround the stranger, eager to listen to storytime. the other two remain hovering closer around ol' eggsy in the back, their shapes a little more defined than the five amorphous ones. familiarity, it seems. but ignore them. tell the little ones the story. they haven't had storytime in years. ]