[ Lloyd watches him intently as he gets up off the worn bunk, tracking the tense, jerky movements until Amos stands in front of him on the other side of the bars. He shifts his feet but doesn't move away. The dungeon always feels heavy, but this is something different entirely. Maybe it's just fake muscle memory, remembering how they were able to just float there. It didn't really happen, just kinda in their minds. Like a really vivid dream.
Doesn't mean it didn't feel real.
Lloyd clicks his tongue in distaste, his expression sour. ]
I miss havin' my own clothes. Feels like I'm just wearing a fancy pillowcase.
[ Yes, his tunic is much nicer than the clothes the prisoners are forced to wear, but he's been dying for some loud colors and patterns since he got here. ]
no subject
Doesn't mean it didn't feel real.
Lloyd clicks his tongue in distaste, his expression sour. ]
I miss havin' my own clothes. Feels like I'm just wearing a fancy pillowcase.
[ Yes, his tunic is much nicer than the clothes the prisoners are forced to wear, but he's been dying for some loud colors and patterns since he got here. ]