[ the way that bondrewd's words descend into something more clinical and detached won't immediately make themselves apparent to vash; rather, it's the realisation that most of the people present here - the 'shard-bearers', as they keep referring - have lost people dear to them, as well. that's right — he isn't the only one. the thought itself is less comforting than it is a little sickening, a little horrifying to comprehend; all of those worlds, all of those lives, destroyed in the blink of an eye, a thousand thousand voices snuffed out in a single, horrible cry.
vash feels the cool touch of gloved fingers on his cheek, and tries to blink back the welling tears. he doesn't deserve to cry. he doesn't deserve to be here. ]
Is there a way to - [ save them? restore things back to the way they were? to reunite father and daughter, families to each other, to people who care and cherish them? ]
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vash feels the cool touch of gloved fingers on his cheek, and tries to blink back the welling tears. he doesn't deserve to cry. he doesn't deserve to be here. ]
Is there a way to - [ save them? restore things back to the way they were? to reunite father and daughter, families to each other, to people who care and cherish them? ]