Royce doesn't know what he wants to do. Given a few days, he might have eventually pulled himself to his feet to leave, urged by the cabin fever. But right now, with only a day or so having passed (he thinks, maybe, he's not sure, he doesn't have the capability of keeping track of time at the moment) he's just sitting. Curled in the blanket, soaking it in before she's completely gone. Until she's a memory he can't fully recall.
He's alone, but that's not the worst of it. He'd been happy, and he can't help but think - can't help but suspect that she died because of that. Because he, for just a while, felt good, Tifa had to die. It's his fault. Painfully killed by his family because Royce's life finally had a little bit of sunshine. It follows the trend of his life pretty well, he thinks. And now he's here, alone. Waiting to be torn apart by monsters. Seems fitting.
So when his table vibrates in his bag, he's understandably startled. He stares at said bag.
He considers ignoring it. It can't be anybody, it's - going to be Admin, congratulations, you're the last one left, here's your prize or - one of the anomalies, fiddling with a tablet they found. Nothing good is going to be on that screen.
But he can't ignore it. Royce slides off the couch, and laboriously drags himself to his bag. Pulls out the tablet, stares down at it. Stares at her. It - it's not real. It isn't. He can't answer, throat clenching tight - this is needlessly cruel, even for this place. ]
no subject
Royce doesn't know what he wants to do. Given a few days, he might have eventually pulled himself to his feet to leave, urged by the cabin fever. But right now, with only a day or so having passed (he thinks, maybe, he's not sure, he doesn't have the capability of keeping track of time at the moment) he's just sitting. Curled in the blanket, soaking it in before she's completely gone. Until she's a memory he can't fully recall.
He's alone, but that's not the worst of it. He'd been happy, and he can't help but think - can't help but suspect that she died because of that. Because he, for just a while, felt good, Tifa had to die. It's his fault. Painfully killed by his family because Royce's life finally had a little bit of sunshine. It follows the trend of his life pretty well, he thinks. And now he's here, alone. Waiting to be torn apart by monsters. Seems fitting.
So when his table vibrates in his bag, he's understandably startled. He stares at said bag.
He considers ignoring it. It can't be anybody, it's - going to be Admin, congratulations, you're the last one left, here's your prize or - one of the anomalies, fiddling with a tablet they found. Nothing good is going to be on that screen.
But he can't ignore it. Royce slides off the couch, and laboriously drags himself to his bag. Pulls out the tablet, stares down at it. Stares at her. It - it's not real. It isn't. He can't answer, throat clenching tight - this is needlessly cruel, even for this place. ]