The library has so far been the quieter of the places here and the place where even he could get lost enough to avoid the living.
So he thought at least.
He wants to look at the periodicals under the man's feet, get a sense of time and perhaps place, but he can see that they are all older than he is and he sighs, the sound dry and catching in his throat a bit.
"The mantra of the living." Knowing better in hindsight.
The voice calls Shadow back to the waking world, and he blinks, eyes slowly opening. His vision comes into focus, and he stares at the walking dead before him.
“... What did you do to me?”
He's confused.
Why does he feel like they were just having a conversation, and now it's like he just woke up?
Given his precedent with snow, and the weather, and other things that seem to happen when Shadow thinks intensely about them, he’s not so sure himself.
“Right. Well, it’d be a first,” he groans. “… so wait, one minute we’re chatting in some limbo, and the other you’re… here.”
"Divine magic?" Boyle looks dubious about that. "Well, it's as valid a reply as I've gotten since I stumbled here. Is that something you have a lot of experience with?"
"That's not really saying much since that same company was terrible about putting us back." Good at half the job, so perhaps that is just as effective.
The question plagues him, even in his sleep.
“Were you the one to bring her back?”
“Yes, no, not the first time, not on purpose,” he replies, mumbles in his sleep. “-- should have known better.”
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So he thought at least.
He wants to look at the periodicals under the man's feet, get a sense of time and perhaps place, but he can see that they are all older than he is and he sighs, the sound dry and catching in his throat a bit.
"The mantra of the living." Knowing better in hindsight.
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“... What did you do to me?”
He's confused.
Why does he feel like they were just having a conversation, and now it's like he just woke up?
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Frank frowns slightly, thoughtful. "But I don't think you were the one to bring me here."
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“Right. Well, it’d be a first,” he groans. “… so wait, one minute we’re chatting in some limbo, and the other you’re… here.”
He reaches for a book, hits his knee with it.
“Yeah, definitely not a dream.”
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"And before you tell me to try it for myself, I don't feel pain like that anymore."
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That's a start, right? Shadow has actually not had that many weird things happen to him. Typist forgets him in crackplots, usually.
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Not yet anyway.
"Though I'd want to know the why and how."
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