THE TOWN SQUARE.

[atrueheroine]

[Page silently watches the church burn for a little while, once she's emerged safely from it, before turning away and heading to the town square to meet up with everyone else. It makes sense to rest here, as they did last week, after another town with another tragic story to tell.

At least that time, however, they'd all survived it unscathed.

Once she's made it over to the group, she drops her pack onto the ground and collapses next to it, staring at her feet. It's going to take a bit to...process all of that, and while she'd love to get up in front of everyone and make some kind of rousing speech, she just doesn't have it in her at the moment.

Instead, she'll look up from the stone of the square, eventually, casting her eye over everyone and saying (almost to herself)-]

...I hope everyone is all right.

[That is likely far from true, but...well. They're all alive, Wesker is dead, and that's something. She's trying her best not to look at that little tree-sculpture with the key around its neck.


OOC: Second verse, same as the first! Here's our post-event mingle post, to talk about what the hell just happened in there, lick our wounds, and beg forgiveness from...from Flower Girl. Top-level away; Page will have her own up, if you'd like to talk to her.]

Comments

[klematis]

If we're speaking in terms of classes and weapons...a wordsmith.

[ A wink that's a bookend to his continued brushing of meta, but it may be opening gesture to the next topic all the same. ]

They are. [ Yay for confirmation, but he waits rather than elaborate further than most other people would. ]

[bornandbread]

Ah. Words can be pretty impressive, but here...

[There's a sliver of doubt somewhere in there, especially after what just happened and specifically, probably, what happened in response to his own words in there -- but it's momentary and he doesn't stay with it.

There are other things to focus on, for the moment. Still, he breaks out a cigarette, slowly.]

I'll listen, though. [whatever that means; he tilts his head, waits for a moment, and then:] Is there one you like better?

[klematis]

[ He tips his head downward with a certain sort of smirk. They've moved on so he won't pick up this thread, but he may actually have an opinion on the power of words here.

A rarity for sure, but the ways in which the conversation have flowed is also a road less traveled. ]

Between these two, no. [ The implication of more names is bare. ] One is older and more warn, the other is recent and more vivid in memory. But since you asked...one is more truthful, if you believe in such a thing.

[bornandbread]

[He just watches for a little while, quiet blink through the fog of smoke and still-burning church as he lights up and contemplates words, and names, but he doesn’t remark on that part.

You can be sure he’s heard it, though.]

Which one is which?

[klematis]

Ash is from the embers of what once was, the past which can never truly be forgotten, the truth which can never really be burned away.

[ For all the adornment, there isn't much beyond his usual inflection beyond a shadow of a sigh. ]

[bornandbread]

Hmm.

[He takes a few moments to let that settle, turn it over a few times, and tap the ashes from his cigarette after a drag or two — ostensibly without irony.

After a moment he turns his gaze to meet Hugh’s — Ash’s — and nods.]

So that’s the truth you believe in. Then it’s Ash.

[It’s somehow matter-of-fact, like the switch is just that easy.]

[klematis]

[ A laugh, light and whimsical. ]

Like this it's only half so. But I can't exactly show you now in the middle of a tale. [ Perhaps purposefully, perhaps not, he runs his fingers over his right hand. Like always, it's gloved. ]

[bornandbread]

[There’s a faintly curious look, like, is it really that funny? that slides to the purposeful glove stroking and whatnot, but he apparently doesn’t deem it enough to put into words. Maybe for now.

In exchange, though, the gaze lingers. Secrets in the Shimmer seem to have a way of being dug up, like graves themselves.

Surely there aren’t that many more graves, though?]

The middle of a tale might be the best time. Though we just saw the end of one.

[Maybe a light prod, maybe not. There’s just a long billowing sigh of smoke, colored by firelight itself like the Shimmer used to be from outside.]