Koa
There's an art to life's distractions
The lights aren't always on for me, Koa wants to say, but that is beside the point. He's listening attentively, trying to wrap his mind around the lived-in experiences Everest shares. For Koa there's always been the ability to shrug off those tripwires and intrusive thoughts, to just be cool when things threaten to get out of hand. But Everest has never been able to just be cool, not for as long as the Dragoon has known him.
Not, it seems, until now.
How would someone know if their thoughts were their own? It's a disturbing thing to contemplate, because if you can't trust your brain what do you have left?
(Clearly our sweet summer Koa has never dealt with mental health issues beyond ADHD)
"Well... how did you feel about it before? The Family and all that?" Before he was infected, whenever that was - if Everest even knows. "Like, did your thoughts about it change suddenly? Or were you always... I dunno, okay with all that?" He gestures vaguely in the direction of Starfall, a violet blight against the distant sky.
Not, it seems, until now.
How would someone know if their thoughts were their own? It's a disturbing thing to contemplate, because if you can't trust your brain what do you have left?
(Clearly our sweet summer Koa has never dealt with mental health issues beyond ADHD)
"Well... how did you feel about it before? The Family and all that?" Before he was infected, whenever that was - if Everest even knows. "Like, did your thoughts about it change suddenly? Or were you always... I dunno, okay with all that?" He gestures vaguely in the direction of Starfall, a violet blight against the distant sky.
To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through
