[ Something in him relaxes as Subaru acknowledges the informationβwhile the other man hadn't given him reason to think he was prideful or one to scoff at a helping hand, there was always a possibility. Arthur thumbs the weighted die in his pocket, feeling out the indentations of the pips as a blind man would with braille. ] Dunno about countless, I could probably get you a number, if you want data for a comparison.
[ Okay, not the point, but hey. It's there. In case Subaru had any doubt of what kind of person he was. ]
You wouldn't be the first. Don't think you'll be the last, either. This place has a way of blurring the lines. [ His hand closes around the cherry red die, the edge digging into his palm like an odd comfort. ] A friend of mine came up with the theory of a totem; a small, unique object you could carry in your pocket. Preferably weightedβnot a coin or currency, since too many people would know what that feels like.
[ Mirroring Subaru's earlier hesitation, there's a moment of conversational suspension, a breath before the plunge. ] Hers was a little metal top that would spin forever in a dream, instead of toppling.
[ No, there was no doubt. But there is something to be said, he thinks, of data in relation purely to dreams. Many could be driven to insanity by that. Instead...
..."Hers" lands with such softness that Subaru understands on instinct alone that the "was" following it must ache in recesses that he rarely allows anyone to see, let alone touch. Silence follows in acknowledgement, though he measures the weight of its knowing against the light of his consideration. He's trying to help, so he puts his focus in the corresponding place. For now. ]
Assuming its total uniqueness to its owner, that simple object would be difficult to translate into the language of the dream without suspect variations. It's a genius idea, really.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ARRIVES 3000 YEARS LATE WITH STARBUCKS
[ Okay, not the point, but hey. It's there. In case Subaru had any doubt of what kind of person he was. ]
You wouldn't be the first. Don't think you'll be the last, either. This place has a way of blurring the lines. [ His hand closes around the cherry red die, the edge digging into his palm like an odd comfort. ] A friend of mine came up with the theory of a totem; a small, unique object you could carry in your pocket. Preferably weightedβnot a coin or currency, since too many people would know what that feels like.
[ Mirroring Subaru's earlier hesitation, there's a moment of conversational suspension, a breath before the plunge. ] Hers was a little metal top that would spin forever in a dream, instead of toppling.
no subject
..."Hers" lands with such softness that Subaru understands on instinct alone that the "was" following it must ache in recesses that he rarely allows anyone to see, let alone touch. Silence follows in acknowledgement, though he measures the weight of its knowing against the light of his consideration. He's trying to help, so he puts his focus in the corresponding place. For now. ]
Assuming its total uniqueness to its owner, that simple object would be difficult to translate into the language of the dream without suspect variations. It's a genius idea, really.