Video.

[king]

I've been wondering, Scorched.

[ Arthur has been training since before the sun rose: it's visible in the flush across the bridge of his nose, the way his blond bangs are sticking dark to his temples, the slouch of his usually straight-backed posture. But he needs a break, a distraction from his own mind, from the questions that have been plaguing it without concrete answer. ]

Say that the Door started — temporarily — working the way that all doors should, and we could all trip merrily back to our own worlds.

[ A breath, considering whether he's really going to ask. Despite his slightly laconic tone, he knows how depressing some of the answers he'll get will be. But he still wants to know: ]

Would you stay here in Anatole?

Or would you go home?

Comments

[miata]

....Don't know anymore.

[king]

[ Gently, ]

Why not, Miata?

[miata]

Complicated. Am needed there? Here? Loved there, here? I don't know. Don't.

[king]

Of course you're loved here, Miata.

[miata]

Know. And it makes it hard.

[king]

From all I've heard of your world, I think you're better off leaving it in your past.

[miata]

....but. Mama is there. Mama needs me.

I would go to bring her here. To rest.

[king]

Your mother?

[miata]

Clarice. Here before.

[king]

Oh, I remember her. She's your mother?

[miata]

Foster mother.