[He only spares a brief glance in zomboa's direction before turning once more to look out at the lake. It occurs to him that he could shoo it again once more, but he lacks the energy for it, and it shows in how he hunches, head no longer raised with the same confidence as before.
He's so tired, and the weight feels so, so heavy.
They're turning to stone, if slowly. The bodies from before should be proof enough that flesh still remains, but he still entertains the thought for a moment, that perhaps his heart is finally beginning to change - it, too, feels heavy in his chest.
He'll sit in silence for a good while, spinning that beyblade in his hand. When he finally does speak up again, his voice is quiet:]
no subject
He's so tired, and the weight feels so, so heavy.
They're turning to stone, if slowly. The bodies from before should be proof enough that flesh still remains, but he still entertains the thought for a moment, that perhaps his heart is finally beginning to change - it, too, feels heavy in his chest.
He'll sit in silence for a good while, spinning that beyblade in his hand. When he finally does speak up again, his voice is quiet:]
I'm sorry.
[For failing.
Again.]