Flynn rolls his eyes and tilts his head back with a mocking groan. "Wow, Stone, you're really smart, you should be, like, a Librarian or something."
He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall next to the cell and looks at him coolly, unmoved by his shock, his tears, his recoiling.
"I AM the real me. Just from a different point in time." He tilts his head back with a thin smile. "In Norfinbury, whenever we would die, the city would take something from us upon our revival. It usually stuck around for a couple of days, then vanish again. We called it the 'death price'. Could be a memory. Could be knowing how to bind your shoes. Could be your voice, your morals, your balance. It could be anything." He says this casually, like he's talking about the weather and not implying the sheer insanity of endless dying experiences. "But sometimes, it would also update you, bring you back from a later point in your life. I was this Flynn's future and the city realized that. But now we're back here and there's no Norfinbury to skip me around in time anymore. Which means I am the real me and I am here to stay."
Flynn pushes away from the wall, chuckling.
"Did you think it was magic, Stone?" Well, technically it was. Or used to be. But he's a signature now, imprinted on this mind and independent from the magic that once caused it. "Did you think I was cursed or under some influence?" He shoots him a nasty look. "Did you think you could save me?"
With a soft tsk he shakes his head. "Poor little Flynn. Flynny, a lot of them would call him. So cute, so good, so self-sacrificing. Norfinbury just ate him alive. And Peter." Suddenly he squats down in front of Stone, staring at him intently. "You think I'm cruel? You've only seen a fraction of what he's capable of. That place you just saw? Peter spent a thousand years there."
He smiles, but there's something almost bitter in it. "That's the guy Jones ate pizza with. And you know what, you better pray with all that you got that Peter didn't take a liking to him. Because he liked Flynny very much. And trust me, you'd rather break Jones' hands a thousand times than have Peter care about him."
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He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall next to the cell and looks at him coolly, unmoved by his shock, his tears, his recoiling.
"I AM the real me. Just from a different point in time." He tilts his head back with a thin smile. "In Norfinbury, whenever we would die, the city would take something from us upon our revival. It usually stuck around for a couple of days, then vanish again. We called it the 'death price'. Could be a memory. Could be knowing how to bind your shoes. Could be your voice, your morals, your balance. It could be anything." He says this casually, like he's talking about the weather and not implying the sheer insanity of endless dying experiences. "But sometimes, it would also update you, bring you back from a later point in your life. I was this Flynn's future and the city realized that. But now we're back here and there's no Norfinbury to skip me around in time anymore. Which means I am the real me and I am here to stay."
Flynn pushes away from the wall, chuckling.
"Did you think it was magic, Stone?" Well, technically it was. Or used to be. But he's a signature now, imprinted on this mind and independent from the magic that once caused it. "Did you think I was cursed or under some influence?" He shoots him a nasty look. "Did you think you could save me?"
With a soft tsk he shakes his head. "Poor little Flynn. Flynny, a lot of them would call him. So cute, so good, so self-sacrificing. Norfinbury just ate him alive. And Peter." Suddenly he squats down in front of Stone, staring at him intently. "You think I'm cruel? You've only seen a fraction of what he's capable of. That place you just saw? Peter spent a thousand years there."
He smiles, but there's something almost bitter in it. "That's the guy Jones ate pizza with. And you know what, you better pray with all that you got that Peter didn't take a liking to him. Because he liked Flynny very much. And trust me, you'd rather break Jones' hands a thousand times than have Peter care about him."