[It's an excellent distraction, providing so much for his mind to twist around, shiny trinkets for grasping hands. Imagining different versions of yourself, different versions of the people you love, aligning like constellations in some iterations and falling into disarray in others. And...he knows that this wasn't Kyle's objective, but a quiet sadness bends his thoughts.
This, at least, is less destructive than nosediving through his own memories.
As they continue their trek through the wilds, Wilhelm tries to come up with something to say. Eventually, he lands on:]
Whoever Dayyid is, he sounds like a fucking asshole.
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This, at least, is less destructive than nosediving through his own memories.
As they continue their trek through the wilds, Wilhelm tries to come up with something to say. Eventually, he lands on:]
Whoever Dayyid is, he sounds like a fucking asshole.
[There's an edge to his words, but it's dulled.]