That hand pulled from his hair and now clasped between Yoshimi’s warm fingers was shaking, irreconcilably, as was the rest of the body also attached, a mass of shudders and horrified, unspoken thoughts directed at the knobby knees pressed against his forehead. He was angry, indignant, and absolutely terrified by his revelations, sending his mind into a storm of personal and pointed attacks, blocking out reassuring words, completely absorbed in its own brooding. The normal person would have therefore left things at this state, having turned a deaf ear on such pitying, trivial certainties. But Dustin was, as he’s pointed out on many occasions, definitely not the normal person.
Not like he didn’t require a few quiet moments after that—yes, he’ll admit it—really quite impressive speech to collect his thoughts, calm himself down, recall exactly what she’d said. Ambient chatter, even in the most stressful of situations, was often recorded in its entirety in Dustin’s mind just as easily as a camera placed on a street corner should pick up the most obsolete of gestures from passerby, at least in the short term; when he’d gathered enough resolve to dismiss his frantic anxieties and formulate a response, the explanation readily produced itself and, as per usual, unraveled into the necessary components of understanding.
Yoshimi was right. Dustin did not like what he heard. He wanted to throw off her hands, take his and throw them on her shoulders, shake her until the sense somehow wrung itself from her brain and made her realize what he was going through—but Dustin was tired. He was tired and frustrated and confused, and frankly it seemed like so much less effort to just babble out whatever popped into his head, because maybe that would provide more clarity into what he was really thinking (for not only Yoshimi, but also himself).
He refused to look at her. “But…but it doesn’t work that way,” Dustin insisted to his feet, “I saw them, they—they’re dead. You can’t…can’t reverse death. It doesn’t work, it doesn’t…”
The callused, gloved hand, the only one attached to Dustin’s person that was still real, insistently pulled itself from Yoshimi’s grasp and wrapped itself around his bent legs, pressing them firmly against his chest. His breathing suddenly became ragged.
Yes, so there was the underlying issue. Welcome back to the forefront of Dustin’s subconscious, Dakota Perkins. You were missed more than you can imagine.
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Not like he didn’t require a few quiet moments after that—yes, he’ll admit it—really quite impressive speech to collect his thoughts, calm himself down, recall exactly what she’d said. Ambient chatter, even in the most stressful of situations, was often recorded in its entirety in Dustin’s mind just as easily as a camera placed on a street corner should pick up the most obsolete of gestures from passerby, at least in the short term; when he’d gathered enough resolve to dismiss his frantic anxieties and formulate a response, the explanation readily produced itself and, as per usual, unraveled into the necessary components of understanding.
Yoshimi was right. Dustin did not like what he heard. He wanted to throw off her hands, take his and throw them on her shoulders, shake her until the sense somehow wrung itself from her brain and made her realize what he was going through—but Dustin was tired. He was tired and frustrated and confused, and frankly it seemed like so much less effort to just babble out whatever popped into his head, because maybe that would provide more clarity into what he was really thinking (for not only Yoshimi, but also himself).
He refused to look at her. “But…but it doesn’t work that way,” Dustin insisted to his feet, “I saw them, they—they’re dead. You can’t…can’t reverse death. It doesn’t work, it doesn’t…”
The callused, gloved hand, the only one attached to Dustin’s person that was still real, insistently pulled itself from Yoshimi’s grasp and wrapped itself around his bent legs, pressing them firmly against his chest. His breathing suddenly became ragged.
“…Doesn’t work. They’re dead. She’s dead, I…I’ve failed.”
Yes, so there was the underlying issue. Welcome back to the forefront of Dustin’s subconscious, Dakota Perkins. You were missed more than you can imagine.