What a sad, strange irony it is, to have no idea that the other considers themselves so much less than human. There's a new, suffocating weight to the quiet after Jon finishes speaking--- though maybe that's only on his end, feeling a bit like he's shoved his foot into his mouth, poking in places where he ought not have--- but it's quickly replaced by the clicking of the tape recorder. The tape whirrs to life - the extraction did prove truly successful, and the recording begins to play.
Voices bridge together, one after the other, some familiar, others less so. Statements about portals, about time, about places that were not of the world they took the space of, with strange tearing sounds interrupting each one, utterances of familiar names, all mashed together as though the tape was stitched together from fragments of others. A single phrase repeats, sticking in his mind with a persistent, lingering weight.
When the tape finishes and stops playing, Jon is tense, panicked, and has no idea how to wrap his head around any of it. He looks to John, and goes to speak, but he loses anything that he might have said at first. His voice catches in his throat, for a mere moment. What could he say to this poor man, who volunteered to help him, opened up about the incredible pressure on his shoulders, and then has to hear something so thoroughly and utterly not of his world? When he finally does manage to speak, he's hushed with disbelief and bewilderment.
no subject
Once more, like the last, it's his own voice that begins to speak. It doesn't stay that way for long.
Voices bridge together, one after the other, some familiar, others less so. Statements about portals, about time, about places that were not of the world they took the space of, with strange tearing sounds interrupting each one, utterances of familiar names, all mashed together as though the tape was stitched together from fragments of others. A single phrase repeats, sticking in his mind with a persistent, lingering weight.
You are here.
When the tape finishes and stops playing, Jon is tense, panicked, and has no idea how to wrap his head around any of it. He looks to John, and goes to speak, but he loses anything that he might have said at first. His voice catches in his throat, for a mere moment. What could he say to this poor man, who volunteered to help him, opened up about the incredible pressure on his shoulders, and then has to hear something so thoroughly and utterly not of his world? When he finally does manage to speak, he's hushed with disbelief and bewilderment.
"What the fuck?"