[ Something warm settles over his shoulders, offering a comforting weight that wraps around him. Only then does he realize that, yes, it is rather chilly in here, as though his physical body has yet to recall how to regulate its own temperature. That's something humans could do on their own, wasn't it? It stands to reason that his own would start doing that in time again, perhaps.
It's too late for Ren. The boy is already registering his initial response. Fortunately, his mind moves on and -- no, the term "mementos" doesn't sound familiar at all, albeit he can't recall much of anything at the moment. But at the news that he is not in reality, the boy exhales, perhaps taking this news surprisingly well.
Somehow, he knows he should not exist in reality anymore anyways.
He's being asked another question. Trying to respond is the least he can do for this person. The cogs in his brain slowly begin to churn, trying desperately to shake themselves free of rust. The gears creak and their edges catch on each other, and no matter how hard he tries to set them in motion, they refuse to budge. ]
...don't know.
[ The words come out tired and disappointed, wishing he could give a proper answer. It's why the boy tries again to delve into the chasm where his memories should lie. He reaches out cautiously, with one hand, sinking his fingers into that darkness. He thinks he can recall something -- cherry blossoms, a door, --
But then it all slips away as his head begins to throb. He gasps in agony, doubling over and grasping at his head with both hands. He wants to answer, wants to remember what remains of his spotty memories, even if reaching into the recesses of his mind triggers those excruciating headaches.
It's too much, and he ultimately decides nothing will come from forcing himself to keep reaching into that black hole over and over again. He's trembling like a leaf battered by the whims of a tempest's winds again, hands still clutching at his head. ]
no subject
It's too late for Ren. The boy is already registering his initial response. Fortunately, his mind moves on and -- no, the term "mementos" doesn't sound familiar at all, albeit he can't recall much of anything at the moment. But at the news that he is not in reality, the boy exhales, perhaps taking this news surprisingly well.
Somehow, he knows he should not exist in reality anymore anyways.
He's being asked another question. Trying to respond is the least he can do for this person. The cogs in his brain slowly begin to churn, trying desperately to shake themselves free of rust. The gears creak and their edges catch on each other, and no matter how hard he tries to set them in motion, they refuse to budge. ]
...don't know.
[ The words come out tired and disappointed, wishing he could give a proper answer. It's why the boy tries again to delve into the chasm where his memories should lie. He reaches out cautiously, with one hand, sinking his fingers into that darkness. He thinks he can recall something -- cherry blossoms, a door, --
But then it all slips away as his head begins to throb. He gasps in agony, doubling over and grasping at his head with both hands. He wants to answer, wants to remember what remains of his spotty memories, even if reaching into the recesses of his mind triggers those excruciating headaches.
It's too much, and he ultimately decides nothing will come from forcing himself to keep reaching into that black hole over and over again. He's trembling like a leaf battered by the whims of a tempest's winds again, hands still clutching at his head. ]
Don't know... ...sorry.