He's seeing things. His first thought is he's seeing things, and he shouldn't be surprised. He's so tired. So achingly tired and out-of-place, feels as if he's falling into pieces of himself, as if every part of him grinds up against the next, as if his very blood's losing its course.
Of course it is. His time's running out; he knows that.
And he knows the ways he's been haunted recently. The way old memories whisper closer, the present overlaid with ghosts with voices with so much of the past it's sometimes hard to think. Sometimes hard to remember to breathe until he remembers his mission, reminds himself of what he needs to do, what should have been done years ago.
Still, there's something different about this specter. Something more solid-looking than the others, something more present (he can feel himself tensing as if someone were actually here, but that isn't true, is it?), and that can't bode well.
He'd been engaged in reviewing the map, trying to bring together the pieces of his knowledge, and now he watches, head turned, eyes fixed on the unreal visitor. Daud studies the figure levelly, and when he speaks - voice weaker than he'd like it - it's in annoyance. ]
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He's seeing things. His first thought is he's seeing things, and he shouldn't be surprised. He's so tired. So achingly tired and out-of-place, feels as if he's falling into pieces of himself, as if every part of him grinds up against the next, as if his very blood's losing its course.
Of course it is. His time's running out; he knows that.
And he knows the ways he's been haunted recently. The way old memories whisper closer, the present overlaid with ghosts with voices with so much of the past it's sometimes hard to think. Sometimes hard to remember to breathe until he remembers his mission, reminds himself of what he needs to do, what should have been done years ago.
Still, there's something different about this specter. Something more solid-looking than the others, something more present (he can feel himself tensing as if someone were actually here, but that isn't true, is it?), and that can't bode well.
He'd been engaged in reviewing the map, trying to bring together the pieces of his knowledge, and now he watches, head turned, eyes fixed on the unreal visitor. Daud studies the figure levelly, and when he speaks - voice weaker than he'd like it - it's in annoyance. ]
I don't have time for any more ghosts.