[hearing Ivan say something like that so plainly makes Till’s heart clench painfully—because in retrospect, it should be kind of obvious, right
Ivan had always found him—freed him—tried to free him beyond mere collars and restraints, too. Till doesn’t know what to say to that; he feels that it’s true, and that just—depresses him. he’s hardly worth justifying someone’s existence. Till knows what that feeling is like, but…he’s no Mizi. and even besides, Till had plenty of other things that he lived for, too. Till lifts his head.]
Ivan…
[Till did feel a resurgence of his inner fire when Ivan had died, determined to carry his spirit, but that flame was tired—it couldn’t last long under the crushing weight of his grief, confusion and pain, on top of presuming Mizi dead. when Till had at least Mizi’s life to breathe some life into he himself, however, it was too late.
Ivan’s words still circle in his head, troublingly. Till rests his cheek against his knees. he needs to get up…]
Do you just…think you’re just like anyone else to me from the Garden, Ivan?
Do you not get it—? Why it’s not the same…?
[this is…kind of risky. but they’re both already dead. so what. Ivan is difficult to understand, and the reverse is true from the other’s perspective as well. but Till’s never really had the mind nor bravery to really try to understand Ivan. the way he was so blazé about his own passing and…seemingly, its impact on Till, was too unsettling for Till not to pry, after everything else.
Till feels like he may be getting at the center of the true root to his anger.]
no subject
Ivan had always found him—freed him—tried to free him beyond mere collars and restraints, too. Till doesn’t know what to say to that; he feels that it’s true, and that just—depresses him. he’s hardly worth justifying someone’s existence. Till knows what that feeling is like, but…he’s no Mizi. and even besides, Till had plenty of other things that he lived for, too. Till lifts his head.]
Ivan…
[Till did feel a resurgence of his inner fire when Ivan had died, determined to carry his spirit, but that flame was tired—it couldn’t last long under the crushing weight of his grief, confusion and pain, on top of presuming Mizi dead. when Till had at least Mizi’s life to breathe some life into he himself, however, it was too late.
Ivan’s words still circle in his head, troublingly. Till rests his cheek against his knees. he needs to get up…]
Do you just…think you’re just like anyone else to me from the Garden, Ivan?
Do you not get it—? Why it’s not the same…?
[this is…kind of risky. but they’re both already dead. so what. Ivan is difficult to understand, and the reverse is true from the other’s perspective as well. but Till’s never really had the mind nor bravery to really try to understand Ivan. the way he was so blazé about his own passing and…seemingly, its impact on Till, was too unsettling for Till not to pry, after everything else.
Till feels like he may be getting at the center of the true root to his anger.]