[ This is how the speakers talked to people who were beyond words, back in Europe. They were better at it, at knowing what questions to ask to let someone give the right answers. It's the wrong way around, now, and he just has to fumble his way through it. ]
Are you in pain?
[ Arn asked that of people, and it always seemed a stupid question. Of course it fucking hurt. Everything hurt. He'd always said something about having to ask it anyway, because people needed to understand that not being in pain was still a possibility.
It still feels like a stupid question, especially as the first speaker's wrist settles against his hand. His right hand. He swallows and nods. ]
Is there anything that can relive it?
[ That's a question that Arn never asked, because he always fucking knew what could be done. Trevor doesn't. Nor, it seems, do the chimeras. The first speaker's wrist falls into his left palm. ]
Do you want-
[ His face scrunches halfway through that question, as pained as if the words were needles in his throat. 'Do you want to die'. It's an easy question. It's a solution. It shouldn't be difficult. But he doesn't need to finish the sentence, because the speaker's wrist remains in his left palm. He has his answer. No.
As if to elaborate, the first speaker makes another of those moist, rasping noises. And it takes Trevor a while to understand, because he's already consumed by trying to come up with something other than euthanasia that might help at all. And then it clicks.
They're trying to speak. ]
You have stories left, don't you? To tell before-
[ He can't finish that, either. In understanding, the first Speaker cuts him off with a wrist in his right hand. Yes. Stories to pass on. They can't die while they still have stories that will die with them. ]
no subject
Are you in pain?
[ Arn asked that of people, and it always seemed a stupid question. Of course it fucking hurt. Everything hurt. He'd always said something about having to ask it anyway, because people needed to understand that not being in pain was still a possibility.
It still feels like a stupid question, especially as the first speaker's wrist settles against his hand. His right hand. He swallows and nods. ]
Is there anything that can relive it?
[ That's a question that Arn never asked, because he always fucking knew what could be done. Trevor doesn't. Nor, it seems, do the chimeras. The first speaker's wrist falls into his left palm. ]
Do you want-
[ His face scrunches halfway through that question, as pained as if the words were needles in his throat. 'Do you want to die'. It's an easy question. It's a solution. It shouldn't be difficult. But he doesn't need to finish the sentence, because the speaker's wrist remains in his left palm. He has his answer. No.
As if to elaborate, the first speaker makes another of those moist, rasping noises. And it takes Trevor a while to understand, because he's already consumed by trying to come up with something other than euthanasia that might help at all. And then it clicks.
They're trying to speak. ]
You have stories left, don't you? To tell before-
[ He can't finish that, either. In understanding, the first Speaker cuts him off with a wrist in his right hand. Yes. Stories to pass on. They can't die while they still have stories that will die with them. ]