[I don't remember how, is more a sensation of lostness, being caught out of time. Being impaled on the Sword had been both one moment and an eternity. Kratos isn't sure how he's meant to reacclimatise to being aware of time passing -- being able to change while that time passes.
[That potential difficulty is superseded by Yuan's explanation, anyway. Kratos absorbs both Lloyd and Yuan's words in silence, submitting to being moved. He feels -- something. He isn't sure anymore. He should be glad that Lloyd has so obviously been raised well, but at the same time part of him rebels at the thought that he was raised by anyone else. (Yuan doesn't count, apparently.)
[Belatedly: Thank you. For the fact that Yuan did stay, did help. For the fact that Lloyd knows him.
[Silently he looks around. The room has everything Kratos would expect from a home in Asgard; a surprising amount of space, for being inside stone, with furnishings to offset the hardness of the surrounds. There's a door opposite, with voices drifting out, and the mana of more people.
[Colette's. Martel. Someone else's which prods a familiarity more akin to remembering a dream, from that long-ago attempt to break him out of Derris-Kharlan. Genis's. Someone else he doesn't know at all.
[Too many people, half-remembered or unknown.]
Dad?
[Lloyd's voice makes Kratos shake his head and start to pull back from the entrance to the kitchen. To Yuan, he sends a feeling of being suffocated, overwhelmed; it's all suddenly a bit too much to try and approach that door.]
no subject
[That potential difficulty is superseded by Yuan's explanation, anyway. Kratos absorbs both Lloyd and Yuan's words in silence, submitting to being moved. He feels -- something. He isn't sure anymore. He should be glad that Lloyd has so obviously been raised well, but at the same time part of him rebels at the thought that he was raised by anyone else. (Yuan doesn't count, apparently.)
[Belatedly: Thank you. For the fact that Yuan did stay, did help. For the fact that Lloyd knows him.
[Silently he looks around. The room has everything Kratos would expect from a home in Asgard; a surprising amount of space, for being inside stone, with furnishings to offset the hardness of the surrounds. There's a door opposite, with voices drifting out, and the mana of more people.
[Colette's. Martel. Someone else's which prods a familiarity more akin to remembering a dream, from that long-ago attempt to break him out of Derris-Kharlan. Genis's. Someone else he doesn't know at all.
[Too many people, half-remembered or unknown.]
Dad?
[Lloyd's voice makes Kratos shake his head and start to pull back from the entrance to the kitchen. To Yuan, he sends a feeling of being suffocated, overwhelmed; it's all suddenly a bit too much to try and approach that door.]
Can we -- stop. I just need to stop for a while.