[He finds them eventually. And maybe he - shouldn't be surprised, either, that this is where they ended up. After the separation, he'd just had to hope that they wouldn't be trapped down there, wouldn't take the one route available to them. The one way they could think of to go. He can't blame them for that; he'd do the same.]
[If the only person anchoring him here just up and - ]
[Well. No. He is a liar. That'd be false to say, because he didn't take that route either. For reasons beyond the scope of what he was willing to examine at the time, and even now.]
[So where does this leave him now?]
[It leaves the most awkward reunion of lost and straggling souls, or Sols, that he has possibly ever witnessed. The third kid in a string of them, a skeleton and a mercenary whose memories of Tim he knows would turn unfavorable in an instant if they knew the truth of "Kidwun" and his role in how things are now. His role in how things set themselves up in the present moment, up until "Kittu" had made a decision.]
[Everyone's exhausted, tired, hungry, beaten down to their cores. He can step around subjects lightly, and circumstances work to his advantage in that regard. Chara is hardly in a position to care one way or another.]
[For that, he can't exactly blame them.]
[There's enough lingering instinct here, or enough of the people who are genuine in their sympathy for a lost, grieving little kid, for them all to ride it out. For none of them to quite question it, the familiarity. He should hope. He should hope.]
[His lighter spits on-off in a rhythmic jerk of his thumb. Not knowing how to broach the subject. Any of the subjects. Not knowing if he should.]
no subject
[If the only person anchoring him here just up and - ]
[Well. No. He is a liar. That'd be false to say, because he didn't take that route either. For reasons beyond the scope of what he was willing to examine at the time, and even now.]
[So where does this leave him now?]
[It leaves the most awkward reunion of lost and straggling souls, or Sols, that he has possibly ever witnessed. The third kid in a string of them, a skeleton and a mercenary whose memories of Tim he knows would turn unfavorable in an instant if they knew the truth of "Kidwun" and his role in how things are now. His role in how things set themselves up in the present moment, up until "Kittu" had made a decision.]
[Everyone's exhausted, tired, hungry, beaten down to their cores. He can step around subjects lightly, and circumstances work to his advantage in that regard. Chara is hardly in a position to care one way or another.]
[For that, he can't exactly blame them.]
[There's enough lingering instinct here, or enough of the people who are genuine in their sympathy for a lost, grieving little kid, for them all to ride it out. For none of them to quite question it, the familiarity. He should hope. He should hope.]
[His lighter spits on-off in a rhythmic jerk of his thumb. Not knowing how to broach the subject. Any of the subjects. Not knowing if he should.]