And to think Aoba had found his own story strange and sometimes inconceivable. One long tale later, suddenly his circumstances were the tame and unexciting version of time/space travel. Though he barely understood the tale, he took away a few things at least: mostly an explanation as to how Declan had taken his bizarre claims so easily in stride and had come so easily to his aid.
His dreams afterwards were dark and formless things as well. When Declan startled him awake, he had a fleeting thought that the destructive entity had been him all along before the dream was gone and forgotten, and the only thing behind his thoughts was a muttering that there were nicer ways to wake a person on. Predictably, Desire had some pretty inappropriate definitions of ‘nice’.
Aoba was a little slower to get out of bed than Declan but somehow refrained from flopping right back into it, giving himself a few shakes before heading towards the cockpit. He heard the exchanged words and was mustering a remark about him being cargo before he got his groggy eyes open and up enough to see more than his feet and the careful placement of his steps. Ren was perched upon the spaceship equivalent of a dashboard, since he’d been alert all the while with Ghost, but Aoba only saw a moment before his eyes found everything that was past his fluffy silhouette.
Surprise caught in his throat and rendered him all but mute, Aoba stilling in place with one hand on the back of Declan’s chair and the other on the back of his own. (It wasn’t really his when he was just a passenger and not a proper copilot, but at least for the while he’d come to think of it as ‘his’ for simplicity’s sake.)
“…amazing…” he breathed, robbed of all other words than that.
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His dreams afterwards were dark and formless things as well. When Declan startled him awake, he had a fleeting thought that the destructive entity had been him all along before the dream was gone and forgotten, and the only thing behind his thoughts was a muttering that there were nicer ways to wake a person on. Predictably, Desire had some pretty inappropriate definitions of ‘nice’.
Aoba was a little slower to get out of bed than Declan but somehow refrained from flopping right back into it, giving himself a few shakes before heading towards the cockpit. He heard the exchanged words and was mustering a remark about him being cargo before he got his groggy eyes open and up enough to see more than his feet and the careful placement of his steps. Ren was perched upon the spaceship equivalent of a dashboard, since he’d been alert all the while with Ghost, but Aoba only saw a moment before his eyes found everything that was past his fluffy silhouette.
Surprise caught in his throat and rendered him all but mute, Aoba stilling in place with one hand on the back of Declan’s chair and the other on the back of his own. (It wasn’t really his when he was just a passenger and not a proper copilot, but at least for the while he’d come to think of it as ‘his’ for simplicity’s sake.)
“…amazing…” he breathed, robbed of all other words than that.