[OOC: so I'm a total moron and only now realized I put this tag in the wrong place, idk if you want to continue the thread but just for completion's sake I have moved it!]
[An echoing sound comes from the other side, heavy, tremulous breathing. A rustle of moving fabric as Beckett pulls himself to sit, curling under the blankets around the light and sound of the tablet. It catches the rasping of air in his struggling lungs. He can't understand Enoch's pain, and he thinks, perhaps that too is an echo - the answering agony of abandonment.
When he speaks his voice is louder, barely containing itself to its whisper.] Then why? Why does He permit it? Thy will be done. How can it not be?
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[An echoing sound comes from the other side, heavy, tremulous breathing. A rustle of moving fabric as Beckett pulls himself to sit, curling under the blankets around the light and sound of the tablet. It catches the rasping of air in his struggling lungs. He can't understand Enoch's pain, and he thinks, perhaps that too is an echo - the answering agony of abandonment.
When he speaks his voice is louder, barely containing itself to its whisper.] Then why? Why does He permit it? Thy will be done. How can it not be?