There's a lot to untangle. He holds more memories than should fit in the span of the relationships he's built, and their edges are blurring and running into one another. Time feels like it's been stretched and twisted in impossible shapes, and another version of himself perches in the back of his mind. On top of that, Wilhelm has to sort through the more mundane but no less complex mess of losing, probably forever, someone he loves.
He doesn't know what to do except try to keep pushing forward. Even one step at a time, it's hard.
"Let's go to my room."
As long as River is comfortable with it, he's comfortable too. Despite the imposing castle walls, he would feel too vulnerable falling into the necessary meditative trance out here.
When they arrive, he holds the door for her. Inside, the room is...in about the state you'd expect from a teenage boy left to his own devices for too long. One of the beds, clearly Wilhelm's, is a nest of blankets with discarded clothes crumpled on the floor around it. The nightstand is piled with books, bits of paper smudged with ink, and several pilfered plates and cups from the dining room. By another bed, Kell's things spill out of trunks that he has yet to properly unpack. At least Wilhelm has a place to hang his messenger bag by the door.
"Sorry for the mess," he offers sheepishly as he shows River to the sitting area by the fireplace. The mantle too is cluttered, but perhaps in a more forgivable way, with souvenirs of Wilhelm's time in this world. There's a small menagerie of frogs, including an intricately painted mask, a wooden carving, and a glass figurine.
no subject
He doesn't know what to do except try to keep pushing forward. Even one step at a time, it's hard.
"Let's go to my room."
As long as River is comfortable with it, he's comfortable too. Despite the imposing castle walls, he would feel too vulnerable falling into the necessary meditative trance out here.
When they arrive, he holds the door for her. Inside, the room is...in about the state you'd expect from a teenage boy left to his own devices for too long. One of the beds, clearly Wilhelm's, is a nest of blankets with discarded clothes crumpled on the floor around it. The nightstand is piled with books, bits of paper smudged with ink, and several pilfered plates and cups from the dining room. By another bed, Kell's things spill out of trunks that he has yet to properly unpack. At least Wilhelm has a place to hang his messenger bag by the door.
"Sorry for the mess," he offers sheepishly as he shows River to the sitting area by the fireplace. The mantle too is cluttered, but perhaps in a more forgivable way, with souvenirs of Wilhelm's time in this world. There's a small menagerie of frogs, including an intricately painted mask, a wooden carving, and a glass figurine.