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    1. Hyro 7 yrs ago

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@Akayaofthemoon
Well, hello there. I've been referred to this roleplay as I hear it's a good time.
Hoping to join as a male Alice.
I'll drop my character below, though fair warning, the backstory is dark as all hell.

WITH EDITS:

Wait.

What did Dawn say? He’d only closed his eyes for a moment, or so he’d thought, but when he opened them Drake’s tired gaze found someone else in Dawn’s place, with any memory of her words being nothing more than jumbled nonsense.

Soren?

He was being carried now; that much was clear from his blurred perspective. Had he passed out? There wasn’t much time to process this change of events, as Drake’s strained body forced him back under again.

Even while unconscious, his shuttered, jagged breathing continued in a manner that Soren could likely hear. It was a sign that the boy was in constant pain, his body trying desperately to compensate for what he now lacked.

---

“Ph-sph-r-s!”

Some distant, garbled yelling allowed him to resurface again briefly, the constant in and out of his awareness beginning to leave him in a confused daze. He focused on the yelling from Soren’s voice this time, as his next sentence allowed Drake some amount of instruction.

“--cover your faces!”

Obediently, the boy reached to grab his jacket’s popped collar and pulled it in front of his face, creating a sort of makeshift mask. The rest of the conversation sounded far away, but he could still make it out and his heart sank.

Reith... They...
They had to leave her behind.

...No...

Everything was happening so quickly. Or perhaps, it only seemed that way to him.
He couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been out. Regardless, this news was devastating. Even if he hadn't known Reith all that well, she still didn't deserve this. She was one of their own, damnit! And who was to say this wasn't the only person left behind?

Drake started to sit up, to lean forward with some sort of driven plan or motive, but it proved to be too much and his body only fell back against the seat again, protesting. He couldn't stand it. He wanted to fight. He had to fight. This was his family, for the love of christ! He had to protect them. Whatever it took, he would keep them all alive, he would--

No... He couldn't.
Drake couldn't fight back.

Not this time.
There was a lot he wanted to say to Johnny. A lot of snide and sarcastic remarks, a directed threat if he so much as laid a finger on Toby, a retort about how much was idealistic when him and his family have been living in freedom for a good while now up until he showed up at their doorstep… But Drake was in no condition to say any of this. In fact, the moment he felt it safe enough, his wings dropped to the ground like dead weight and tiredness plagued his face and stature. Pain radiated through his muscles with every step.

It took him a moment to even notice the transition from outdoor to indoor as he fought against the urge to fall unconscious. He couldn’t let Dawn bear his weight throughout all of this and managed to speak up, only once they were a decent ways inside.

“Dawn,” his voice strained even as he spoke, but he needed to say this while he still could, “If the opportunity arises for everyone to make a break for it, I… I’m just gonna drag everyone down... You gotta leave me behind.”

Even as he pleaded with what little strength he had, he knew Dawn would likely fight him on this and therefore went on.

“If you or anyone else couldn’t get away because of me, I wouldn’t be able to... live with myself knowing that this… This dictator enslaved you all. With the state I’m in, I… I just can’t…” the boy trailed off, unable to follow up his statement with a conclusion due to his headache and severe dizziness getting in the way.

Another thought flickered in his mind though, something of vital importance. He switched gears rather suddenly, needing to get it out while he still could.

”Larke, the… The prisoner upstairs… He-”

Drake stopped in his tracks as a sharp pain shot through him. One or more of his organs had suddenly shut down only to start back up again, and the result was excruciating, causing the boy to double over. He had managed to stay conscious this long, but it was only a matter of time before his body would force him under in order to make up for any lost energy.

Only an adrenaline shot could keep him awake at this point, but even that would surely kill him as his system gradually shut itself down from expending the energy he simply didn’t have. His body needed a constant supply to keep itself going, whether that be from sleeping or eating. Sheer willpower had kept him conscious for this long, the desire to not miss any more than he already had, but he was reaching his limits.

The pain he felt from his organs starting back up again, that had been familiar. It was something his body often did when coming back to life. This was concerning on a number of levels, as it likely meant he was, well…

Dying.

Yes, Drake was on a timer. Perhaps not today, perhaps not the next few days, but soon…
Soon it would run out.

This null on his powers… It was slowly killing him.
Johnny’s words did little to answer Drake’s question, but it was also pretty clear that Johnny saw things a bit differently. Saw them as ants.

Drake felt like an ant.

As Dawn appeared to help support his weight, he flinched involuntarily - he couldn’t help it. The boy no longer knew who was around him and was therefore much easier to startle. His heart had started to race in a panic up until she spoke, of which his eyes opened part way in realization. “Dawn…” Out of all the people here, Drake trusted her the most. Time tended to do that out in the wastes, and with the two of them being some of the longest standing members, not even trust issues got in the way at this point. One hand released the beam and wrapped around her shoulders to make things a little easier. “...Thank you.”

Silver eyes, now partially open, trailed around the yard and took in what he’d missed. Hel was up close and personal with the enemy which spiked deep concern. Toby was pointing a gun at the enemy, which made the boy uneasy. Eld Fen was… someone else, and was already calling the man ‘master’ which provoked… Well, not quite anger. This wasn’t Eld Fen, after all. Shock was more accurate, shock and confusion. Reith’s body was being carried off, completely unmoving and Drake’s stomach dropped as he faintly recalled what Johnny had said.

”Reith… Is she…?” His voice was kept low, almost a whisper.

Johnny had spoke again, and this time to Dawn and… him, maybe. Things were a bit hazy, but Johnny had clearly said,”‘both of you.” It was possible he was talking to someone else though; Drake couldn’t be sure as his attention was wavering hard. However, one thing he knew for certain.

He didn’t want to go anywhere near that beast.

The boy jumped at the explosion nearby, his breath catching. What was that? A nuke? Did that freak just summon a fucking nuke???

At this rate, Drake was shaking. Whether it was from weakness, stress, or fear, it was hard to say. Likely it was a combination of all three. His heart was certainly pounding in his neck as the looming threat of death stared them in the face. And with the null going on, who was to say he’d come back if he was struck down this time?

Johnny had given them his offer.

“Either way, you’re offering us slavery. Of different varieties, granted, but the intentions remain the same,” Drake commented, speaking loud enough for Johnny to hear. His eyes closed again, feeling too heavy to keep open. His breathing labored and he couldn’t really think straight, let alone make a choice… But he trusted Dawn. Whatever she decided on, he would follow suit.

And then someone had yelled for them to run.

Knowing neither him nor Dawn would have any chance of a hasty retreat, he did the only thing he could think to do. Mustering the strength to lift them, Drake curled his large wings around the two of them almost instinctually and hoped for the best.
Drake’s eyes wavered faintly as he felt a change in Larke’s aura. He went to stand, seeing how kneeling the way he did was starting to become uncomfortable. Was it possible he was making progress? It was hard to say, but Larke’s coughing was less than reassuring and the boy found himself instinctively reaching out as if to assist him. His hand suspended momentarily in the air, but did not make contact, however, instead pulling back after a brief hesitation.

As Larke spoke, the boy’s eyes softened and lit up with a glimmer of hope. Unfortunately, their potentially uplifting scene was about to be cut short.

Whatever Drake was going to say or do in that moment was thrown aside as the predatory sensation fell over the Wanderer ranch. For most of his peers, it was a dreadful tingling, like something foreign or wrong was amiss. But Drake was an energy sensor, and as such, the oncoming energy hit him like a speeding train. Whatever energy was behind their abysmal forewarning, it crashed into him like a relentless tidal wave, the weight of it crushing. Silver eyes shot open wide and his spine snapped back as if someone had yanked him by the hair. Their demise was fast approaching. Fear took hold of him in an instant, its cold bony fingers wrapping around his chest and lungs. He found it hard to breathe, and a series of shuddered gasps were all that escaped the boy’s lips right before it hit.

For the first time since banding together with the Wanderers, Drake felt the urge to run. To leave his family behind and never look back, lest he find himself returning to this god forsaken nightmare that was about to befall them. He was completely and utterly terrified, trembling with indecision on whether or not to book it now while he still had the chance. Survival instincts screamed in his ear, but they would do nothing to save him. The threat was approaching far too rapidly, and as the winged boy stepped back, he realized he could never escape in time. It was already much too late.

This… This was inevitable.


/No./


And just like that, the energy plummeted over the ashlanders, striking each and every one of them in the blink of an eye. His power was gone, having ceased with the snap of a finger. And be as it may, the results were detrimental.

Drake stumbled hard and reached for the nearest support beam in his dizzying haze. His eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched, head spinning like that of a drunkard.

Normally his powers kept his energy contained and recycled it, allowing him to walk and fly without tiring. That was how he managed to conjure up enough energy to attack without passing out. It was also why he had to recharge after a big battle, to gain that energy back - but now his body was forced to remember how to store it on its own in order to compensate for this unprecedented lack of power. Pain coursed through him as certain organs and vitals started up with some difficulty, only to immediately be thrown into high gear in order to contain the energy that was seeping out of him at an alarming rate.

Drake leaned heavily against the wooden frame, curling over a bit. His body didn’t really store fat from food - it had never needed to, which was why he was so thin. Less weight made for faster flight, which worked well before, but now it wasn't in his favor. His body lacked the basic means to provide itself with a constant energy supply, something a normal human system did naturally in order to function. And as a result, the boy felt dazed, fatigued, and sick.

Drake was malnutritioned, at best.
Dangerously ill at worst.

/Dawn? ...Please tell me you can hear me.../

But there was no response.
At least, not from Dawn.

A voice did sound outside though, heard clear as day through the thin walls of the attic. The source of the catastrophic dilemma, or so he'd gathered as his eyes trailed toward the noise, seemed to belong to someone proud enough to make himself known. Entitled for sure, even going as far as to claim ownership of their ranch haven.

/Fucking hell.../

He needed to see this monster with his own eyes.

Larke desperately needed help too, but Drake lacked the skills necessary for it and was in no position to help right now anyway. Instead, the dark-haired boy moved toward the opening of the attic with an unsteady and faltering stride, carefully descending its wooden steps. He stumbled hard near the bottom and had to drop a foot or so to compensate for his fumble. His hastily extended wings offered the only counterbalance to stop his momentum from causing him to faceplant. But while the boy did remain on his feet, he still wound up crashing hard against the wall of the hallway with a deep grimace of pain. Drake’s body continued to burn energy in order to keep him standing upright, which in turn made his muscles ache with exhaustion. Not to mention his wings... They were so damn heavy that he could no longer keep them up and, as a result, they sagged behind him in a sad and disheveled heap.

“...Mina? ...Toby!? S… Someone-” he sputtered, his chest laboring with every breath. No one was nearby to hear him, however, let alone help him to remain standing, but it would still take him a moment to realize this without his sensing ability present.

Drake decided to push forward despite his wavering physical state, his limbs protesting with every forward motion.

Following the direction of the voice outside, he eventually found himself at the front door. If anyone was standing there in that moment, Drake had paid them no mind, simply squeezing by in order to clamber out onto the front porch. The world outside spun like a whirlpool, making it impossible to stay upright and forcing him to stumble over to the closest wooden pillar for support. Pale fingers gripped hard against the wooden beam, the only thing keeping him from falling at this point as he gathered himself. From there, his gaze raised to meet that of the man's, the one who’d wrought this hell upon them.

“What is this?” he demanded, voice shaking with every syllable.

Surprisingly, Drake’s tone did not sound confrontational in the slightest, but rather mirrored the emotional turmoil of someone who had just lost a loved one.

A somber cry of desperation.
He had been robbed of a vital part of his being, after all, and amidst the god awful physical side effects he was experiencing, the boy found himself suffering from high levels of emotional devastation. Deep down inside, he was certain he wasn't the only one. Now having seen the man responsible for this horrible plague of events, he lowered his head and closed his tired eyes.

His energy waned.


“What have you done?”
Stubborn as a mule. Larke seemed so convinced it wasn’t him, and it was disheartening to say the least.

“... Larke-”

The boy reeled back as his friend coughed, concern touching his eyes again. His hand dropped down, not bothering to return to Larke’s forehead but rather resting on his own knee instead.

“Come on. Use that brain of yours. You know I’m a member of the group you came after, it was only a matter of time before I found you up here. You’ve only seen, what, three? Four of us? You should know there are a lot more, possibly even some who aren’t really aware of what’s going on in here. Myself included, though I have a pretty good excuse for my absence.”

“Dawn’s the only mentalist here, and I’m pretty sure she’d sooner cut off her leg than force her way into your head. It’s not a pleasant experience for either side.”

Drake sighed wearily.

“No one’s killing anyone. And Hel’s perfectly fine,” his eyes flickered blue for a moment.
“She’s downstairs right now, in fact…” the boy’s voice trailed off, silver eyes moving toward the window sill of the attic when he realized someone had been watching. His gaze lingered on Rei for a moment. It was unsettling to say the least, that she seemingly knew about Larke being up here. That she could just watch this scene play out and do nothing.

/It’s possible she’s scared,/ he thought, a solid attempt to reconcile this.

Drake had to think there was a reason behind everyone’s avoidance of what was happening to Larke up here.

Plus, whenever Rei watched him in any regard he felt uncomfortable. Possibly the overhanging concern that she might be sizing him up as her next meal. It was almost impossible to not have that lingering in the back of his mind. But he tried to dismiss it.

He looked back to Larke. “If Hel goes back home, they’ll continue to experiment on her with their so called ‘treatments’, just as they were before. You only know what they tell you because to Erubesco, that’s all you need to know. But she wasn’t sick. She was part of something bigger, some sort of project of theirs. Think about it for a minute. Why else would they send people and resources after her, time and time again? If she’s just sick, as everyone is claiming, that’s even more resources used on ‘curing’ her in a lab, resources a big faction like Erubeso wouldn’t be willing to spare willy nilly on just one kid. When you boil everything down, it just doesn’t make any sense. They’d sooner let Hel die out here than waste more people and resources, unless that one kid was extremely important to a cause,” the boy explained, using logic to decipher the pieces of information he’d collected, “Plus, Hel is already looking a lot better since we took her in. And she’s absolutely terrified of the idea of going back. You saw what they did to me - they called that science. Imagine what their ‘treatment’ looks like.”
Mina’s escape from the situation was less than reassuring. Drake found himself on his feet, hand reaching out halfway as if to stop her but evidently deciding not to, a silent protest left lingering on his tongue. Abandonment, and at a time when the boy needed answers most. Then again, the answer to his question was pretty clear after looking over Larke. And Spire was involved, so it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.
Larke had been tortured.

Speaking of pieces being put together, Mina was heading downstairs to ‘patch things up’ as she had said. Downstairs, to where Dawn had rushed to, where Montana was, but why? They were all down there, huddled around seemingly nothing. Why? Why weren't they up here, dealing with this? Avoiding it? He certainly planned on investigating soon, but not at the moment. He had more pressing matters.

What a mess this was, and Drake hardly felt prepared to handle any of it. Physically or emotionally.

"...Kid?"
A hoarse voice broke him away from his current train of thought.

It had caught his attention, distracting him from the downward spiral of new and terrible information, and the boy’s silver eyes trailed back to Larke in an instant. He gave a soft, sad smile, hints of nostalgia prickling the edges of his mouth. That nickname, that voice… The sound still comforted him to this day, forever engraved into his head during a memory of a morbid prison cell. ”Yeah, it’s me,” he breathed.

Though his smile soon turned to a somber frown as Larke’s brain rattled off an explanation. The boy sighed as he knelt back down next to Larke.

“You’re right. The ones who did this to you are extremely fucked up. Spire, especially. No one likes him, but he's someone's brother, so it's not like we can just-..." he trailed off, realizing this probably didn't help justify anything when Larke didn't personally know the situation. Drake sighed. "I’m sure it’s been pretty hard for anyone to stand up to someone like him, a complete psychopath. Or Montana, a trained mercenary for that matter... And I don't really get why those two thought any of this was okay in the first place. I guess I’m the only one with a death wish around here, because despite the risk, I’m still going to give them hell for what they did to you,” the boy finished, his voice hollow and empty.
Tired, even.

He unstrapped one of his leather gloves, pulling it off with the canines of his teeth before touching the back of his hand to Larke’s forehead. He took the glove out of his mouth with his other hand, mildly surprised. “Jesus, you’re burning up…” Drake noted, his voice laced with concern. At the very least, his hand would offer some relief as it soaked in a good amount of heat on contact.

”Believe me, if someone was in your head right now, you’d know it.”
He decided not to question the “ex” thing, but he certainly had caught it as it slipped out. It wasn’t something he cared to pry about - whatever happened between Mina and Larke, that was between them.

“Honestly, this whole thing’s been hard to swallow, Larke. I'm just trying to understand it all. I mean, what made you come to us wanting to hurt us? Hostile tendencies aren’t exactly a part of your resume...”
As Mina stopped in her room, Drake paused by the doorway to wait for her. And even as she expressed her doubts, he said nothing. Mostly because he agreed. The hope that Larke might join them was pretty wishful thinking, but sometimes a little optimism could go a long way, however unlikely it may have been.

As she pulled at the string for the attic and released the putrid smell from above, Drake reached to move his jacket across his mouth and nose to block the retched smell that burned at his nostrils and throat. “Oh god, the smell…” he trailed off, tucking his wings in to ascend the ladder.

He waited until he was standing evenly at the base of the attic before raising his eyes to take in the horror that was Larke’s broken state. “Holy shit, Larke-”

Drake broke eye contact for a minute, looking away to close his eyes and cover his mouth. He felt violently ill from what he saw, and the smell of vomit in the air wasn’t helping. The boy swallowed hard before looking back toward his friend, then broke off swiftly across the room to join his side, being sure to stay out of the way of Mina’s handiwork.

He lifted his hand, gently placing it on Larke’s shoulder with some hesitation. “I’m here Larke. It’s me, Drake." His eyes wavered as he took in Larke's visage. "I know, it’s been a while... But we’re gonna fix this, okay? I... I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner, I was-” Drake’s voice caught in his throat as his eyes looked over Larke’s condition up close now. Memories of their time in that Erubescan cell filtered back into his mind, causing his stomach to tighten and churn with empathy and severe remorse.

“Mina,” he choked, completely shook, “What are they doing to him?”
It wasn't easy, waking up after being out of commission for a few weeks. Drake felt like one of those comatose patients, spending weeks or even months unconscious only to one day suddenly wake up. To find the world had simply moved on without them. So far, a lot had went down while he was out. What else had he missed? Could some of this have been avoided if he’d stayed alive? The entire thing was certainly stressing the winged boy out far more than he let on.

Sensing Mina move closer, Drake opened his eyes partway at first, then opened them entirely when he saw the pill she was presenting him. His gaze lingered on it for a moment, then silver eyes raised to level with hers. His were wary, conveying his uncertainty; a silent protest against the pill.

He couldn’t help but feel uneasy whenever he saw Erubescan medicine, especially seeing how Erubesco had a way of being sneaky with some of the drugs they offered up. Administering disguised medication to a subject with the promise of relieving their symptoms, only for the medicine to further prolong and sometimes even worsen the illness. That was one example. Or how about the “pain meds” given to some of the test subjects, meds which were actually infused with ingredients that brought forth horrific and even traumatizing side effects. Or the sleeping pills that worked a little too well, throwing their tired patient into a neverending coma. And those were only a few.

Erubesco didn’t care, so long as it meant they had control over the public masses.

But Mina was specialized in this sort of thing, and if Drake trusted anyone to be able to distinguish the good from the bad, it was her. Therefore, despite all reservations, he accepted her offering and popped the tablet under his tongue, just as she had instructed. His nervousness still lingered momentarily, mild as it was, merely a product of caution derived from the average ashlander paranoia.

Mina’s hand on his shoulder did well to redirect his attention, and he listened quietly to everything she had to say, eyebrows knitted.
His own wings twitched at the mention of Larke’s shattered one, drawing tight against his back.

The part about Spire made his stomach churn.

”You’re right, that doesn’t sound anything like Larke. Attacking carelessly like that, I can't imagine why he'd do something so... well, violent.” Drake frowned.
Silver eyes gradually trailed down to the floorboards as he took a moment to soak all this in, trying to make sense of it.

”We're not gonna kill him,” he said finally, calculating eyes still trained on the wood panels below, almost as if he could find the answers if he just stared hard enough.

”Not if there’s a chance we can help him. If what you're saying is true, then it’s possible Erubesco did something to Larke. It wouldn't be unheard of - the factions are notorious for brainwashing and deceiving people. And Larke was just a lowly prisoner to them, so it's not unreasonable to think they might take advantage of him."
Drake hoped he was onto something with this.

"I want to at least try talking to him... Surely the Larke I know-”

He paused briefly before clearing his throat and looking up at Mina. “The Larke we know… Is still in there. Somewhere. And if I have to work with him day and night, for weeks on end to pull him back out, I will. If we can get the old Larke back, maybe - just maybe - we can convince him to join us. Or at the very least, make him promise not to hurt anyone if we let him go. Dawn can even verify for us if his intentions are true. And I could really use your help getting through to him, if you're on board.”
It wasn't going to be easy, and Drake really didn't want to tackle this hard ball by himself.
Not if he didn't have to.
”Besides, even if it doesn’t work - even if our attempts to help him fail and there’s no undoing whatever damage is done... At the end of the day, at least I can say I tried. I have to try...”

”I owe him that much.”


Fortunately, their shared mutual connection with Larke provided some consolation. There was comfort, after all, in not being alone. Drake wasn't forced to fight this battle on his own, wasn't stuck trying to defend a friend who the Wanderers really didn't know or have any obligation to. Rather, Mina was right there to back him up; by his side.
On his side, he hoped.

Well, Mina was on the dot about one thing. This certainly was a bad spot. Fiercely disheartening in every way.

The pain medication was starting to set in now, which wound up being good timing as Mina was ushering him to follow her if he would so choose. And as much as his stomach twisted at the thought of what he might see up there, Drake still felt it vital to confront the problem sooner than later. He lightly pushed off from the table and strode after her as they made their way down the hall.

”And as for Spire,” he piped in, needing to get something off his chest.

“We need to figure out a way to put a goddamn leash on the bastard. He’s always up to no good, and his sick, reckless activities could one day end up putting all of us in serious danger. It’s unacceptable if you ask me, and frankly, he shouldn’t have to have a damn babysitter all the time. Something needs to be done to get him to behave himself.”

This last bit was more of a bout of frustration than it was really a demand. Caused by a festering resentment, it flowed from the lips of a boy whose distaste for the bloodthirsty Schippers brother grew stronger every day. Of course, that being said, Drake did firmly believe a discussion was in order regarding their cruel and sadistic long-standing member whom they had all put up with up until now. Surely the group could come to a consensus.

Spire had stepped out of line one too many times. It was about time he got an intervention, in Drake's opinion.
As Mina stepped in front of the door, Drake took a step or so back, not wanting to cause any trouble. His hard gaze had begun to soften as she spoke.

“You know Larke?”

Much like Mina, this came to him as a surprise, and understandably so. It wasn’t like the two had any similar history between them, so for both to have crossed paths with him certainly sang ‘it’s a small world’ loud and proud. And with this new bit of knowledge, the tension shifted and crumbled, his stubbornness withering away with it. He was left with a hollow feeling, her words ringing in his ears, conflicting with everything he knew prior about Larke.

It took the winged boy a moment to gather his thoughts long enough to explain himself.

”Larke and I shared a prison cell way back when I was captured by Erubesco. It wasn’t your typical prison, granted. More of a prison/experimentation room hybrid. The scientists were trying to learn more about my self-resurrection ability, but their methods involved killing me over and over again while taking notes… It was hardly science, if you ask me. Larke was placed intentionally into my cell. They manipulated his guilt and soft heart and used him to speed up the resurrection process. He continuously healed me, only for Erubesco to kill me again. It broke his heart every time, too,” Drake relayed carefully, recalling the memory with a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

“My time in that place felt like an eternity... If it wasn’t for Larke’s company, I might very well have gone insane.”

His eyebrows furrowed, lids closing as the headache from earlier pounded harder against his temples. It was growing worse with the new information now spinning in his brain. He shook his head as if to clear it, opening his eyes, but he still seemed equally unsure of what to believe.

“There’s no way… You know how Larke is, he couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone a person. And he tried to stab you? That just... That can’t be right... Larke, he-” the boy trailed off, his eyes squeezing shut as he reached to grip the table behind him for support. One hand moved to hold his head which was reeling.

“I’m sorry, Mina. I just assumed he was a stranger to everyone, that there had been some kind of miscommunication... I didn’t know he was dangerous.”

Perhaps Erubesco had done something to his friend. Maybe he was different now.

“I’ve really missed a lot, haven’t I?”
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