[ with chrono's response comes the distant echo of a clock ticking. heavy, like the timepiece had been removed from some great tower, the grind of cogs turning over preceding each echoing thunk.
he's there, too, walking on a surface of nothing and looking out into nowhere, a shock of colour that seems to bleed into darkness like paint on water. he doesn't know amos, but somehow this all feels disturbingly familiar. ]
How much is it goin' to cost? [ it's a sincere question, with only a hint of something accusatory to it. mostly, it just sounds... resigned. ] This new world, that so many people don't want.
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he's there, too, walking on a surface of nothing and looking out into nowhere, a shock of colour that seems to bleed into darkness like paint on water. he doesn't know amos, but somehow this all feels disturbingly familiar. ]
How much is it goin' to cost? [ it's a sincere question, with only a hint of something accusatory to it. mostly, it just sounds... resigned. ] This new world, that so many people don't want.