+- Court of the Fallen (https://cotf-rpg.com)
+-- Forum: Out of Character (https://cotf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=26)
+--- Forum: Important (https://cotf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=27)
+---- Forum: Archives (https://cotf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=38)
+---- Thread: wishstones, and other bad ideas (/showthread.php?tid=12001)
Pages:
1
2
wishstones, and other bad ideas - Damien - 09-02-2025
Damien hadn’t planned on the floatie.
Coffee beans—yes. Torchline had the freshest, and he wasn’t about to leave without them. A walk on the beach to stretch Aria’s legs before the next skyship—sure. But a bright-blue shark-fin vest, bobbing the cub around like some bargain-bin predator? That was someone else’s idea of a fair trade, and his own lapse in judgment.
Aria didn’t care. She paddled in slow, lopsided circles, paws flailing while the fin carved across the glassy surface of the Miana Pool. From a distance she looked like the ocean’s least convincing killer. Up close, she looked thrilled.
She gave a throaty grr-yowl, slapped at the surface, and sent a spray scattering light.
[say]“Oh yeah, you’re terrifying,”[/say] Damien called out, crouching at the water’s edge. [say]“Real scourge of the deep. Fish'll be jumping into your paws any minute now.”[/say]
He might cut an odd figure against the Torchline coast. Where locals might've pulled on sweaters or light jackets for Deepfrost’s chill, his sleeves were shoved to the elbow, forearms thick and scar-laced, skin weathered by northern frost instead of salt and sun. His dark curls clung stubbornly in the humidity, his boots were still crusted with travel dust, and the hard planes of his shoulders spoke more to axes and crossbows than fishing nets or surfboards. He looked like he belonged more in the Fangs than by a Pool where people came to whisper wishes.
He turned a stone over in his hand, smooth and green; it reminded him of pine needles after rain. Somebody had told him to toss it in the Pool, make a wish, let the sea gods sort it out. Fishermen swore by it. Kids dared each other to try. He wasn’t sure if he believed in any of it, but his thumb kept running the length of the stone all the same.
Aria lunged at her reflection, growling at the “other cub” daring to mimic her. The floatie squeaked.
Damien snorted. [say]“You look ridiculous. You know that, right?”[/say]
The Pool didn’t laugh. The Pool didn’t ripple. It just sat there, unnaturally still, like it had been waiting on him. Torchline’s noise carried faintly from the docks, but here, the air pressed in close. Salt, sun, and underneath it—something faint and metallic, like blood rusting on old iron.
He rolled the stone between his fingers. Thought about tossing it. Thought about what he’d even ask for, if he believed anyone was listening. Food, work, a roof over his head—he already had those. More than he’d had in years. The cub was alive, loud, and growing bolder every day. But wishes weren’t for what you had. They were for what was missing. And Damien, for all his practicality, wasn’t sure he even knew what that was.
The stone slipped once, sweat-slick against his palm. He caught it before it fell, frowning down like it had betrayed him.
Aria let out a sharp mrrow, ears pricked, head tilted—not at her reflection this time. At something else.
Damien’s gaze followed hers across the still water.
RE: wishstones, and other bad ideas - Remi - 09-04-2025
Remi rounds the curve of the beach with ten tree trunks in tow. Six are lashed together over his shoulder, their bark shedding sap across the back of his chambray shirt. The others float behind him, suspended mid-air by a tangle of tentacles that trail from the small of his back and out from beneath his shirt. Sweat darkens the fabric across his chest despite the breeze; even in Deepfrost, Torchline has a way of turning work into a sauna.
He doesn’t notice the man or the cub at first. His focus is fixed on the path ahead, on the rhythm of breath and weight, on the curve of the Miana Pool as it catches the light in its eerie stillness. Only when something gnarled and bobbing catches his eye does he pause.
A branch, half-submerged. The knot near its tip looks, unmistakably, like a cock. Remi squints and then grins. A fresh tentacle unfurls with mischievous intent, reaching to snatch the branch while he shifts to balance the rest—poorly. One log slips free with a dull thump, landing in the sand. Another follows with a splash.
He sighs.
Wiping a hand down his face, Remi finally looks up—and that’s when he sees them: A dark-haired man crouched near the Pool’s edge, scars and travel still clinging to him, and a small feline of some kind in a bright blue fin, growling at her reflection with all the menace of a soggy shark cub.
Remi straightens, tentacles retreating as if sheepish. His expression softens into something warm and a little sheepish of his own. [say]"Ah,"[/say] he says, voice thick with the travelling tongue, making the sound musical. [say]"Didn’t mean to interrupt your..."[/say] Frowning, Remi glances from Aria to Damien and then back again. [say]"Swimming lesson?"[/say]
RE: wishstones, and other bad ideas - Damien - 09-08-2025
Damien’s eyes had followed Aria’s, but what he saw wasn’t what he expected. Not the still water shifting, not some menacing L'ma rising from the Pool—but a man hauling half the forest across the sand, with… tentacles?
For a second, he just blinked, hand tightening reflexively around the stone. Caido had its share of oddities, but watching extra limbs wriggle out of someone’s back and snag driftwood was still enough to put a hitch in his pulse.
The thump of a log in the sand broke it. Another went rolling into the Pool with a splash. That, at least, was easier to wrap his head around. He heard the apologetic tone on the breeze and shrugged. [say]"No worries, I got it!"[/say]
Damien shoved the stone into his pocket, rose, and waded into the shallows without ceremony. Cold water lapped his boots, soaking the worn leather as he angled himself toward the bobbing trunk.
One good heave and a grunt later, he had a hand on it, steadying the thing until it was up against the shore. He would've pushed it up and over the small bank. In fact, he tried, but it was too waterlogged and heavy for him to manage it easily. [say]"Hmm.."[/say]
His gaze slid over the log, then the tentacles—retreating now—as if measuring whether or not to mention them.
[say]"I can push it up from this end if you can gra — oh."[/say]
Recognition sharpened his expression as the sentence died on his lips. He remembered the repairs on Theea’s house, the easy way Remi had stood with Ronin, the quiet weight of someone with power woven into his name. Flora’s father. A demi-god. Not the kind of man Damien had expected to bump into by a wishing pool with a cub in a floatie.
Still, he tried to keep his cool about it. [say]“Remi, isn't it?"
"We crossed paths last season—Theea’s place. Sorry I didn't properly introduce myself.. I'm Damien,”[/say] he offered an open hand out over the log. Then his dark gaze flicked over toward the 'shark' cub, [say]"and that is Aria... who is learning to swim, yes.”[/say] Her fin was starting to tilt a bit too far to the left so, despite her best efforts, she began going round-and-round in tight circles.
RE: wishstones, and other bad ideas - Remi - 09-11-2025
[say]"Ah—"[/say] The protest leaves Remi half-shaped as Damien wades into the pool, but he swallows the rest behind a smile. Torchline’s sun would see the man’s boots dry quick enough, and the water wasn’t cruelly cold this far south.
[say]"Thank you,"[/say] he huffs instead, laughter softening the word. [say]"If you can keep it braced against the bank, I’m sure I’ve got another tentacle somewhere."[/say] The grin that follows is sheepish, almost conspiratorial—but rather than conjure a fresh coil of blue-green, the existing ones unfurl and ease their burdens to the sand in an ungainly thud. The trunks settle heavy at his feet, and Remi drags a hand through damp curls with a sigh that sounds far more relieved than defeated. [say]"Though truthfully, I could use the break anyway."[/say]
Damien’s words bring his head up. Remi studies him more carefully this time—the scar-shadowed features, the square weight of his shoulders—before memory catches. A small nod confirms it. [say]"Oh, that's right."[/say] His tone warms, recognition smoothing across the vowels as he wipes a palm against his shirt before extending it, careful with his grip as always. [say]"It’s good to meet you properly, Damien."[/say]
His gaze shifts toward the cub circling endlessly in her ridiculous fin, amusement tugging one corner of his mouth. [say]"And Aria,"[/say] he adds, voice light with approval as if she really might be learning the art of intimidation along with swimming.
With that, Remi crouches, scooping both hands into the shallows. The water gleams in his palms for a moment before he tips it down the back of his neck, a shiver rolling his shoulders as heat gives way to cool. Straightening, he glances sidelong at Damien, expression curious beneath the easy grin
[say]"So—how do you know Theea?"[/say]
RE: wishstones, and other bad ideas - Damien - 09-11-2025
Damien shifted his weight, bracing the trunk hard against the bank as instructed. The wood bit into his palms, water sluicing down his wrists, until one of those slick coils wrapped around it and hauled the log up with far less effort than he could muster. Once it was settled alongside the others and not threatening to roll back in, he turned toward the real menace: Aria, spinning herself dizzy.
[say]“Yeah, I think you could use a break too, girl,”[/say] he decided. Her whiskers dripped, her ears plastered flat with water, but she still made a swipe at the Pool as if she’d won some battle. Damien hooked her out anyway and plopped the sodden “landshark” onto the sand, where she shook fur and floatie alike with such gusto that droplets peppered his rolled sleeves.
Satisfied she wouldn’t immediately drown herself, Damien stepped out of the water as well. He much preferred solid ground under his boots; Torchline’s beaches were gentler than the ocean, but the way the Pool just sat there—still and waiting—made his shoulders itch.
Their hands clasping brought his attention back. Damien studied Remi a moment, dark gaze flicking briefly to the tentacles before locking on his face again. He took the demi-god’s hand in a firm, steady shake and let it go without fanfare. [say]“Likewise,”[/say] he agreed simply.
When Remi bent to scoop water, Damien opened his mouth—probably to warn him about the incoming cub—but too late. Aria bounded over with a happy mrrow!, paws slapping the wet sand. She pressed the damp shark fin against Remi’s leg, clearly introducing herself with zero concern for boundaries. Damien gave a whistle that earned him a flick of her ear, nothing more.
His brow eased when Remi asked about Theea, though. [say]“Oh, Theea…”[/say] A breath of humor stirred in his chest, a rare half-smile cutting across his face. [say]“I’ve known her a while. Met her back when she was staying in Halo with her parents. She was just a kid then—just as eager, but still just a kid. I hadn’t seen her or her folks in years, then she turned up again last season, all grown up and talking about monster hunting like it was the most natural thing in the world.”[/say]
He shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping. There was fondness there, under his usual reserve, as if the events still surprised him. After a pause, he glanced back at Remi, brow lifting slightly.
[say]“And you? How do you know her?”[/say]
RE: wishstones, and other bad ideas - Remi - 09-12-2025
The damp weight of the cub against his leg draws Remi’s gaze down, a lopsided smile tugging at his mouth. He crouches easily, one broad hand reaching to ruffle the patch of fur at her neck not swallowed by the bright-blue float. The grin that slips across his face is unguarded, boyish, and for a moment, the logs, the Pool, and all its stillness are forgotten. Having worn the shape of a lion for so many years, the brush of feline fur carries its own sort of familiarity; there’s comfort in the feel of claws and whiskers, even on such a small predator.
When Damien mentions Halo and the past, Remi’s brows rise. [say]"Oh? You know Ashe and Kalt, then?"[/say] His tone carries a spark of surprise that edges quickly toward fondness. He gives Aria another scritch for good measure before pushing back up to his feet, brushing the grit of sand from his palms.
[say]"I am Theea’s uncle,"[/say] he says with a laugh, the word uncle wrapped in boyish pride. [say]"Ronin and I came through with Ashe and Kalt, back when the barrier still caged the Grounds. Ashe was like a sister to use in Northaven."[/say] His smile turns lopsided, affectionate in a way that makes it clear the memories are close at hand, all the more so given Ashe's reappearance in their lives. [say]"Her mother, Theea's grandmother, practically raised my twins while we were living in the Greatwood."[/say]
RE: wishstones, and other bad ideas - Damien - 09-16-2025
Aria melted under Remi’s hand like she’d been waiting her whole short life for the scritch. The proud little growl she’d been practicing gave way to a low purr, and when he pulled back to stand up she followed with a determined headbutt to his knee, float squeaking with the effort.
Damien huffed, the sound halfway between a laugh and a groan. [say]“That’s it—you’re done for. You gave her attention, now you have a new best friend.”[/say] He shook his head, amused despite himself, and watched the cub angle for more attention like she’d just reeled in a prize catch.
At the mention of Ashe and Kalt, Damien’s brow rose. [say]“Yeah. I knew them. Not well,”[/say] he admitted, straightforward as ever. [say]“Ran into Ashe once or twice, Kalt the same. Mainly because of Theea—”[/say] his mouth tugged into the faintest grin [say]“—I was the one bringing her home when she’d wander too far into the wilds.”[/say]
When Remi added uncle, Damien looked back at him with a flicker of surprise. Not doubt—just the kind of pause a man gives when something slots into place. [say]“I didn't realize you were family,”[/say] he admitted. His gaze softened a fraction, a rare warmth cutting through the usual steel. [say]“She’s lucky, then. Having that. All of you around her.”[/say]
He nodded once, more to himself than to Remi, as if confirming a quiet thought. [say]“Explains the fire in her.”[/say]
Aria punctuated the moment by plopping onto Remi’s boot, fin askew, purring like she’d staked a claim. [say]"Aria,"[/say] Damien's tone carried the edge of a scolding, for he knew not everyone would enjoy such persistence. The cub gave him a narrowed look as if to say 'don't ruin this for me' and of course she gave Remi the puppy-dog eyes. Damien gave a resigned sigh, and to Remi he shrugged.
RE: wishstones, and other bad ideas - Remi - 09-23-2025
Remi can’t help but fuss over the cub, scratching through damp fur and running his fingers along the line of her jaw until her purr rumbles louder. [say]"My husband’s companion is much the same,"[/say] he admits, voice edged with laughter. [say]"Once you’ve been claimed, there’s no getting free."[/say]
Ashe’s name draws his gaze back out over the Pool, eyes narrowing with thought. Her story was a puzzle he hadn’t bothered to fully piece back together now that it was one he wasn’t sure needed solving. She was back, and that was enough. [say]"I hadn’t realized they stayed in Halo quite so long,"[/say] he muses, turning his attention back to Damien. The comment about family earns an easy nod and a quiet chuckle. [say]"Compared to the trouble Ronin, Ashe, and I managed to stir up, Theea’s been remarkably tame from what I’ve seen so far."[/say] His grin quirks wider, self-deprecating. [say]"Though I doubt it will last much longer now that she’s finding her own footing."[/say] With a pause, Remi's expression tightens somewhat as he winces. [say]"And now that she's friends with my daughter."[/say]
Looking down again, Remi wiggles his toes experimentally beneath the cub’s determined weight before huffing out a laugh. [say]"Well, it seems I’m taking a longer break than I meant to,"[/say] he says, boyish and unbothered, scratching once more between Aria’s ears. [say]"But I can’t say I mind."[/say]
RE: wishstones, and other bad ideas - Damien - 09-24-2025
Damien’s mouth twitched at Remi’s comparison, dark eyes dropping to Aria, who was practically vibrating under the attention. [say]“Sounds about right,”[/say] he muttered, shaking his head slightly in amusement.
He let the cub’s satisfied purr fill the pause, gaze flicking toward the Pool when Remi mentioned Ashe again. [say]“Halo has a way of holding onto people,”[/say] Damien said after a moment. [say]“Some longer than others.”[/say] His tone wasn’t bitter—just factual, a man who knew the bite of winter better than most.
The line about Theea drew him back, a low chuckle rising in his chest. [say]“Tame, huh? That’s one word for her.”[/say] His grin crooked, wry and amused. [say]“Sounds like she’s in good company, at least.”[/say]
But when Remi mentioned Flora, Damien’s expression shifted. He tilted his head, weighing the man with a quieter curiosity. [say]“Family means a lot to her. To both of them, I think.”[/say] His voice softened, steady in a way that felt more earnest than casual. [say]“And at least they’ve got people like you and Ronin looking out for them, if they do get into trouble together.”[/say] He smirked at that.
He hesitated, thumb brushing over an old scar on his arm. [say]“Me, I’ve mostly been on my own. Closest thing I’ve got is her, now.”[/say] His gaze dipped briefly to Aria, who was sprawled on Remi’s boot, purring like she’d staked permanent claim. The faintest smile tugged at his mouth before he looked back up.
[say]“You’ve got ties on every side — Theea, Flora, Ronin, even the gods.."[/say] His tone stayed even, respectful, but there was curiosity beneath it. [say]“If you don't mind my asking, Remi... was being a demigod something you chose? Or something that chose you?”[/say]
RE: wishstones, and other bad ideas - Remi - 09-28-2025
Remi only nods at Damien’s remark about Halo, curls falling across his brow as his gaze drifts briefly toward the Pool. He’s never belonged to a place the way the woodcutter describes, but he’s heard the sentiment often enough to understand it in part.
The mention of Flora earns a lifted brow, a flicker of disagreement caught and swallowed before it can escape. Instead he chuckles at the idea of swooping in, shoulders rolling in a light shrug. [say]"Well, being able to be channelled if either of them gets into trouble does make me feel better about letting them loose in the world."[/say] His grin is crooked, but it’s edged with truth; he did breathe easier knowing his reach could still find them, even from afar, if ever they needed him.
Damien’s next question stills him. His brows climb, then draw down again as he shakes his head. [say]"No,"[/say] he says at once, voice quiet but certain. A hand lifts, raking through his damp curls, and he exhales through his nose as his eyes turn to the still water. [say]"It wasn’t something I chose."[/say]
He hesitates, piecing a long, knotted history into something brief. [say]"One of my closest friends was murdered. I begged Ludo to bring her back. It agreed, but only if I promised to owe it a favour, no questions asked, one day."[/say] The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile, more a bitter crease. [say]"Naively, I agreed. And when the day came, the favour it asked was to become its demigod. It never truly gave me my friend back, and what it did give...it twisted."[/say]
Another shake of his head, tired this time, and his shoulders sink as if the weight of the trunks on the sand has settled somewhere else instead. [say]"Only recently did I become Mort’s. Even Ludo had to admit what it was asking of me had become too much after so many years."[/say] The words leave him on a sigh, weariness woven through but softened by the fact that he’s still here to tell it.
He rubs the back of his neck, lips quirking wryly. [say]"So—no. Chosen isn’t quite the word I’d use."[/say]
RE: wishstones, and other bad ideas - Damien - 09-30-2025
Damien listened in silence, arms folding loosely as the weight of Remi’s words sank in. He wasn’t the type to fill heavy air with platitudes, and the story didn’t call for them anyway. A friend murdered. A bargain struck out of grief. The twist that followed. It was the kind of tale you heard around a fire and didn’t forget—because any one of them could have made the same choice in that moment.
His gaze dropped briefly to Aria, still sprawled with smug determination across Remi’s boot, as if to remind himself that life could claw its way through loss if given half a chance. When he looked back up, his voice was quieter than before, steady but edged with a respect that wasn’t performative. [say]“That’s quite a price to pay. Can’t blame you for taking it, though... Most of us would’ve done the same, given the choice.”[/say] And the words he spoke were true enough, at least of himself and his own experiences.
He let that settle a moment before tilting his head, brow furrowing slightly. [say]“But now… with Mort. Sounds like you’re carrying a different weight than before. Is it any better?”[/say] His tone wasn’t skeptical, just open—an honest curiosity he couldn’t quite keep to himself.
Another pause, thumb brushing over a scar on his forearm again, as if the motion grounded him. [say]“If it had been up to you…”[/say] His dark eyes searched Remi’s face, not unkindly. [say]“Would you have chosen Ludo or Mort? Or another? Frey, maybe?”[/say] He couldn't quite put his thumb on why, but Remi gave Frey vibes. Maybe that was Damien's projection, though.
RE: wishstones, and other bad ideas - Remi - 10-02-2025
Remi inhales sharply, brows climbing as if to bite back a disagreement. The sound hovers between amusement and disbelief, and after a moment he lets it out with a shrug. [say]"I’d only just arrived in Caido then,"[/say] he admits, the words outing him as Outlander if that wasn't already something Damien knew about him. His shoulders roll, curls sticking damp to his forehead. [say]"I imagine anyone who grew up knowing Ludo might have gone into that bargain with their eyes open. I certainly didn’t."[/say] The smile he offers with it is wry, tempered by memory.
Damien’s next question stills him. He blinks, a little stunned, before immediately shaking his head. [say]"None,"[/say] he says simply, firmly. [say]"I wouldn’t choose any of them."[/say] His gaze drops toward the water, a ripple of thought moving across his features before he adds, quieter, [say]"I’m grateful for the strength being a demigod has given me. It lets me protect the people I care about. But—"[/say] his mouth twists, awkward as he rakes a hand back through his curls—[say]"I’d never have chosen this life for myself. Others wear it far better than I do."[/say] The grin that follows is crooked, sheepish, his tone self-deprecating rather than bitter.
At the mention of Frey, though, he balks outright. [say]"Gods, no, never them."[/say] The words come with a huff of incredulous laughter, head shaking hard enough to fling a few droplets from his curls. [say]"I’ve never had anything but terrible interactions with Frey. So certainly not them."[/say] He rubs the back of his neck, half-grinning as if the idea alone is absurd enough to need no further explanation.
RE: wishstones, and other bad ideas - Damien - 10-03-2025
Damien didn’t pretend to know what it was like—new world under your feet, a crown dropped on your head whether you wanted it or not. He’d never worn either. But he’d lived long enough, seen enough, to recognize the kind of weight a man carried whether he asked for it or not.
[say]“Doesn’t sound like anyone would wear it easy,”[/say] he said after a beat, voice low but not doubting. His gaze lingered on Remi’s shoulders, the tired way they’d sunk when he spoke of bargains and twisted promises. [say]“But from where I’m standing, you wear it well enough. Doesn’t matter if you chose it. What matters is you’ve carried it, and kept the people you care about safe. That’s more than most could say.”[/say]
Aria purred louder at that moment, as if in agreement, and Damien’s mouth twitched faintly. He noticed the weight of the stone in his pocket as he shifted his stance, and pulled it out to brush his thumb over its smooth green surface. [say]“Not everyone’s given the chance to stand that close to the gods. Not that I’d rush to it myself, but…”[/say] He exhaled, a small shrug. [say]“I can see why someone might.”[/say]
The corner of his mouth tugged in wry acknowledgement, the words carrying less envy than plain truth.
When Remi balked at the mention of Frey, Damien’s brows rose, surprise flickering in his dark eyes as he lifted them back up. [say]“Terrible?”[/say] he echoed, tilting his head as if weighing how much of that was laughter and how much was raw memory. [say]“That’s… interesting. Not what I’d expect to hear.”[/say]
He glanced toward Aria—who had, by now, grown restless again and found something to chase in the nearby grass—and back again, his tone curious, cautious. [say]“I’ve had dealings with them, recently. So I’d be curious to hear what kind of trouble they’ve given you.”[/say]
RE: wishstones, and other bad ideas - Remi - 10-05-2025
Remi laughs softly, shaking his head as he wipes a hand over his jaw. [say]"Ah, I think my husband wears it far better than anyone else,"[/say] he says, tone edged with affection that’s impossible to miss. [say]"Though I might be biased."[/say] The smile lingers, faint and fond, before he adds, [say]"Two of my good friends are Frey’s demigods as well. They made it look almost effortless."[/say]
[say]"Terrible,"[/say] Remi repeats emphatically, the word weighted by more than irritation, his seaglass eyes darkening a shade. The sigh that follows is long, resigned, and he drags a hand up the side of his cheek as if the motion might help him decide how much to share. [say]"When I first arrived in Caido, I stumbled into one of Frey’s shrines with a few friends. We didn’t know better."[/say] His brows lift a little, humour catching briefly at the edges. [say]"And I’m sure you know what it’s like in their presence."[/say]
He exhales, rubbing at his eyes as though to blur the memory. [say]"I wasn’t openly gay at the time, and Frey…wanted me to be intimate with my female friends."[/say] His lips twist, rueful. [say]"Another time, I went with someone else, and when I wouldn’t sleep with her either, Frey cursed me. Took some of my memories. I think they meant it as kindness—because they were memories of a man I was trying to get over—but still."[/say]
He straightens a little then, posture tightening, the lightness fading from his expression. [say]"The last time I saw them…"[/say] He hesitates, mouth working as if the words cost something to pull out. [asy]"I was with another friend. Frey said they’d make her a hybrid if I assisted."[/say] His jaw sets, eyes dropping briefly to the sand before he continues, voice low. [say]"I agreed, of course, because it was what she wanted, but..."[/say] His cheeks flush a dark crimson. [say]"I'm sure you can imagine what they asked of us, and after,"[/say] the word lands heavy, the implication clear—[say]"she fell pregnant. She’s the mother of my twins."[/say]
A hand rakes back through his curls as he lets out a slow breath, guilt and weariness threading through the motion. “[say]"It nearly ended my marriage,"[/say] he admits quietly, the words stripped of drama but steeped in regret. [say]"So yes…terrible, all things considered."[/say]