"You don't strike me as a person that hesitates before a new challenge."
This too is something he can understand. The first time Bruce had killed someone he'd found himself unable to do anything except circle that point. There was such a clear delineation between Before and After that all he could think of was what it would mean if he went any further. What would it make him? Or would it make him anything at all? He'd thrown himself head first into the expectations of the people around him, attempting to outrun his own nature. As if it could ever be outrun.
What then is Jason Grace hesitating before? The familiar against the unknown? Or is it the enormity of what acceptance would mean? So many people in Bruce's life have died and so few of them have appeared in Beacon. The time they have here is already borrowed- an amount that shrinks with each passing day, as the World Eaters draw nearer. His hands withdraw and the miniature snowman sits surrounded by its many brothers. It isn't perfect. Maybe his next try will be better.
He's only just reached for a fresh patch of snow when the question hits the air, and while Bruce doesn't sputter, there's a momentarily stillness that betrays his surprise. "There's no sun in Beacon." What does he want? The corner of his mouth moves, a wry smile angled at the forest around them. "The shadows are always close to the group."
no subject
This too is something he can understand. The first time Bruce had killed someone he'd found himself unable to do anything except circle that point. There was such a clear delineation between Before and After that all he could think of was what it would mean if he went any further. What would it make him? Or would it make him anything at all? He'd thrown himself head first into the expectations of the people around him, attempting to outrun his own nature. As if it could ever be outrun.
What then is Jason Grace hesitating before? The familiar against the unknown? Or is it the enormity of what acceptance would mean? So many people in Bruce's life have died and so few of them have appeared in Beacon. The time they have here is already borrowed- an amount that shrinks with each passing day, as the World Eaters draw nearer. His hands withdraw and the miniature snowman sits surrounded by its many brothers. It isn't perfect. Maybe his next try will be better.
He's only just reached for a fresh patch of snow when the question hits the air, and while Bruce doesn't sputter, there's a momentarily stillness that betrays his surprise. "There's no sun in Beacon." What does he want? The corner of his mouth moves, a wry smile angled at the forest around them. "The shadows are always close to the group."