warriorscribe | Snowblind Inbox

[Does he want to talk? He isn't sure. Having a better idea of what's going on in his mind might lead to less accidental outbursts like this. Every conversation has become a minefield of things that tear open wounds lately, and neither he nor the other party ever seem to see it coming.

On the other...it still feels wrong to focus on his hurt when someone else is just as wounded.]

I'm...I'm not sure you'd want to hear it. It's very bleak.

Well, I... guess they wouldn't be bad memories if I did, right?

[He shrugs.]

I'm not sure if I'll have any advice for you. I'm not exactly... I'm not an advice-giving kind of... person, but, I guess I can listen?

There really isn't any advice-...

[Aside from the perfectly useless "don't do that". Considering the things that stood out to him as different about this particular timeline seemed like good things at the time didn't help.]

...I gave up. In this other...timeline, session, whatever it is, I gave up.

[He pauses to draw another slow breath.]

I'm unsure there's any advice you could give that isn't incredibly obvious and also much easier said than done.

[Flynn makes good on his promise and he does listen, falling back on his bed for the night as Enoch's voice comes out of the tablet. Giving up. It's true, there's hardly any advice that he can give and they're probably all tired of it didn't really happen at this point. He closes his eyes for a moment and tries to picture it, being in that situation, just letting go of everything.

Eventually,]

That must be difficult to come back from.

I had- ...something good come out of a different one, and that helped somewhat. But I can't forget what it felt like, that complete hopelessness.

[He doesn't want to talk about it. But he's already on edge, and those feelings too stubborn.]

Was nobody with you? I know you guys perceived time differently than the rest of us but...

Not in these memories. I'd...decided my presence was a burden. I'd been avoiding others. I really don't- I live my life day to day like everyone else. Being nearly four hundred only means I remember more years, not that I experience time any differently. So each day alone...well, you wouldn't have to struggle to think of how it felt, after that tower.

I'm sorry, I didn't mean... that you remember more years, that's what I meant.

[He exhales, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling.]

Sounds lonely.

And I had convinced myself I deserved every second of it.

[A pause. There's a scraping sound, plastic on something tougher, metal? He's scratching the eyes off something, no doubt.]

I...that's not relevant to my age or anything else. I'm sorry.

What? [That comes as a surprise and he blinks, listening to the scraping for a while.]

Why would you think that? You're not a bad guy.

As I said, I'd convinced myself that my presence was a burden on others. Even if I wasn't malicious or selfish, I-...

[He breaks off again.]

At that point, in those false memories, I had been alone for months, broken only by a single companion, who died when I was meant to protect him. I'm not sure how sane I was when the cult was finished using me.

... You thought it would be better that way.

[Flynn speaks into the pause then falls silent when Enoch picks up again.]

The cult? What do you mean, are you talking about the creepy death office jail with the murder basement? [Not the most eloquent way of putting it – and maybe not good timing – but Flynn has a very visceral reaction to that place that makes controlling his words a bit... difficult.]

If only it had only been murder. [Bitter, choked, probably everything Flynn expects. He remembers the crushing pain and the thread of hope he found in being encouraged to reach out to a friend. He also "remembers" the guilt never ending, spiraling into the worst.]

But...you weren't here, when- oh no, did you remember being here for it?

[There is a pause before Flynn answers. This isn't a direction he had wanted to take here.]

Yes, I do. But it's okay, it wasn't as bad, nothing really happened to me.

[He's pretty sure this means Flynn was trapped on the handle side of the scalpel. Even when they were never there, this place manages to force that event on people...]

Technically speaking, nothing happened to me, either. But it did. If you were- ...made to be one of them, like I was, that isn't really "nothing". And not being as bad doesn't- doesn't make it nothing, either.

[His breath keeps trying to come too short and he's stubbornly trying to keep control of it. It only serves to highlight his distress, rather than hide it. It may have been a month ago, but it's still a very raw spot, recently made worse by the knowledge of what it could have done to him.]

No-- no, Enoch, I wasn't, I... really, I'm okay. I don't have any memories of... the town didn't give me any memories of what happened down there. Just of being there and attempts to escape. It was freaky and horrible but... I'm fine.

I'm just very sorry you guys had to go through all this. I... saw the rooms.

It's easily the worst that-...

[Why is he rambling on at Flynn about this? Too much has been happening lately. Some days he's better, even well, but this is apparently not one of them.]

...I'm sorry.

Were you... [He clears his throat, unsure, wanting to tread lightly.]

Did they do that brainwashing thing on you?

They did. I assumed- well, you too, when you said nothing really happened. It was common to hear. Or think, immediately after, even if I was aware...

[He swallows his own words again, partly out of guilt for...what, exactly? He doesn't know anymore, just that it hurts him just as much as if he knew why it did.]

...I'm sorry you were any part of that.

Not being yourself, that must be scary. [He can only imagine how Wilson must feel now. Maybe he should check in with him too, see how he's doing, but the thought makes him want to curl up under his blanket and not move for a couple of hours.]

Yeah, me too. Any of us, really, that's just... it's just so wrong.

To say I wasn't myself is too simple, that's- that's what made it so-

[How many times has he decided he's going to stop talking about this? He cuts himself off again with a shake of his head.]

...I hope this town will stop reminding us of it.

Me too.

Or keep adding to the pile.

That's a farther-fetched thing to hope for, I'm afraid. Ten months, and with each one at least one new horror. For that...I think it's best to hope we put a stop to them, rather than the town deciding to be kind for a change.

[With the machines in their bodies, their veins, their brains degrading...it's not likely to get better on its own. He has no idea how to possibly do anything about that, though, and Winter had no suggestions when he asked.]

I guess that works, too. [Flynn isn't ready to give up hope that maybe at some point things do get better, but he won't blame Enoch for not doing so, either. After all, the man has been here a considerably longer time than Flynn and arguing against that feels... arrogant at best.]

... What do you want to do first? When we get out of here, I mean.

I don't know.

[It comes too easily. After this place... He's not even sure he can go back where he came from anymore. If there's anything for him there, really.]

I suppose that depends on where I go. Sharing a hot meal with my companions sounds wonderful.

[There were already pancakes, but...something more substantial. Something that didn't involve days of trekking through snow and dark tunnels and hoping nothing tried to chase you down along the way.]

I suspect that's an easy answer, however. What would you do?

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