[He snorts.] You know, I could take that as an insult. Even if you're very right.
[He knows how he is. It's what makes him so good at his job. All of his jobs. Music and mayhem. Yet, this story sits like a stone stuck in his throat. Even with Ciri, who had lived through part of it, he'd barely gotten it out. (He still needs to find some apology for her that is worth it. He's still sorry she was the one to walk in on him after he first awoke.)
Ugh. He can do this! It's. It's only somehow harder here. Again. To tell it again.
He'll take that touch, at least. He doesn't make a habit of escaping from his performances or his crowds, but here it's for the best. He thought he could do it, and he wanted to, and now the emotions the song dregs up, the time of his life in which he performed it --
Out in the cool night air of Cadens, he can breathe again. He hefts his lute higher onto his shoulder, the strap digging in, and allows its familiar weight.]
Let me attempt being succinct, then. [He swallows as they begin to walk, his hands on the strap of the lute case to finger it with a hint of nervous energy.] I woke up a few days ago, having dreamed I was on my sphere. Living my life. Surviving it, I should say. And when I awoke, it was confirmed by my companions to be real memories.
[There. Succinct. That really tells it all, doesn't it?] It was over a year of memories, however. In a night. And then I found myself back here, burdened with them, and -- I feel like someone now I did not entirely used to be.
no subject
[He knows how he is. It's what makes him so good at his job. All of his jobs. Music and mayhem. Yet, this story sits like a stone stuck in his throat. Even with Ciri, who had lived through part of it, he'd barely gotten it out. (He still needs to find some apology for her that is worth it. He's still sorry she was the one to walk in on him after he first awoke.)
Ugh. He can do this! It's. It's only somehow harder here. Again. To tell it again.
He'll take that touch, at least. He doesn't make a habit of escaping from his performances or his crowds, but here it's for the best. He thought he could do it, and he wanted to, and now the emotions the song dregs up, the time of his life in which he performed it --
Out in the cool night air of Cadens, he can breathe again. He hefts his lute higher onto his shoulder, the strap digging in, and allows its familiar weight.]
Let me attempt being succinct, then. [He swallows as they begin to walk, his hands on the strap of the lute case to finger it with a hint of nervous energy.] I woke up a few days ago, having dreamed I was on my sphere. Living my life. Surviving it, I should say. And when I awoke, it was confirmed by my companions to be real memories.
[There. Succinct. That really tells it all, doesn't it?] It was over a year of memories, however. In a night. And then I found myself back here, burdened with them, and -- I feel like someone now I did not entirely used to be.