But Crow does recognize that voice, both memories overlapping each other to at least recognize that. With his fingers splayed across his face, he peeks between the fingers, the image not unlike a confused, caged animal.]
Rean? [It's instinctual, at least at this point.]
Where the hell are we? [But no sooner after he says that, it's like his world changes before his eyes, the confused, clouded expression now a bit clearer.]
No wait...I know where we are. It's Recolle...we're in Recolle. I thought I was in...
[And then the image of that door flashes again, it's flowery lock with an eerie blue hue that seems to pulse, and with each pulse Crow can feel his body sinking. He doesn't physically move beyond where he's sitting on the sidewalk, but from the way he grabs Rean's sleeves, you'd think he were about to fall.
Fall from something that doesn't exist.
And then.
"Go finish your speech in hell."
A gunshot, and at point blank range from the sound of it as Crow's fingers grip those sleeves even tighter, his knuckles white and eyes like a deer in the headlights.]
Get DOWN, REAN.
[His old self is at least coherent to take the safety of his friend into account, tugging him to the sidewalk and looking for their shooter.
There was none. Just the Recolle streets that became more familiar the more he looked at them. They'd seemed a million miles away just moments ago...]
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But Crow does recognize that voice, both memories overlapping each other to at least recognize that. With his fingers splayed across his face, he peeks between the fingers, the image not unlike a confused, caged animal.]
Rean? [It's instinctual, at least at this point.]
Where the hell are we? [But no sooner after he says that, it's like his world changes before his eyes, the confused, clouded expression now a bit clearer.]
No wait...I know where we are. It's Recolle...we're in Recolle. I thought I was in...
[And then the image of that door flashes again, it's flowery lock with an eerie blue hue that seems to pulse, and with each pulse Crow can feel his body sinking. He doesn't physically move beyond where he's sitting on the sidewalk, but from the way he grabs Rean's sleeves, you'd think he were about to fall.
Fall from something that doesn't exist.
And then.
"Go finish your speech in hell."
A gunshot, and at point blank range from the sound of it as Crow's fingers grip those sleeves even tighter, his knuckles white and eyes like a deer in the headlights.]
Get DOWN, REAN.
[His old self is at least coherent to take the safety of his friend into account, tugging him to the sidewalk and looking for their shooter.
There was none. Just the Recolle streets that became more familiar the more he looked at them. They'd seemed a million miles away just moments ago...]