[He's sure. He hardly expends effort tidying the kitchen, only bothering to put the cookies away before he guides Doppio out the door with a hand pressed to his shoulder. Quiet, perhaps, and lost in thought, but so sure in this moment.
Before long, they slip away from their reality and into a near-perfect facsimile of the past. They stand before a white church, not far from the beach. A bright, sunny sky. The sounds of people in the distance and of gulls in the air. Not a trace of smoke clouds their eyes or burns their lungs.
Everything that transpired feels like a lifetime ago, now. It's so tranquil, Diavolo could almost be at peace here.
A version of himself was. He doesn't know how he feels about that. Bitter, maybe. Ashamed.
He tenses, hands balling into fists. He is himself in this place, his body smaller and weaker, and he feels naked without the cover of wing and light that should surround him. He can't feel the pulse of King Crimson beneath his skin; he only feels painfully, achingly helpless. To drown out the feeling, he turns to Doppio.]
Does it make you feel anything...? Anything at all?
[Because it's making him feel something. Regret — for coming here at all, for tearing old wounds open again.]
is it legal to just ... flash forward so suddenly. i cant do transitions
Before long, they slip away from their reality and into a near-perfect facsimile of the past. They stand before a white church, not far from the beach. A bright, sunny sky. The sounds of people in the distance and of gulls in the air. Not a trace of smoke clouds their eyes or burns their lungs.
Everything that transpired feels like a lifetime ago, now. It's so tranquil, Diavolo could almost be at peace here.
A version of himself was. He doesn't know how he feels about that. Bitter, maybe. Ashamed.
He tenses, hands balling into fists. He is himself in this place, his body smaller and weaker, and he feels naked without the cover of wing and light that should surround him. He can't feel the pulse of King Crimson beneath his skin; he only feels painfully, achingly helpless. To drown out the feeling, he turns to Doppio.]
Does it make you feel anything...? Anything at all?
[Because it's making him feel something. Regret — for coming here at all, for tearing old wounds open again.]