Jingyi shrugs off the sorry, pairing it with a wave of his hand and a dismissive word.
"Not a big deal." It wasn't, for the most part. It was just walking into unseen barriers on mistakenly familiar ground, more jarring for Jingyi than people who were drawing logical associations.
The rest of what he says, neatly avoiding Jingyi's confusion over what a Que and Aye would be, leaves him feeling cold, annoyed, angry, and headached all at once. "What the hell is with this place being against logic?" He whines, but then he stops himself, and rubs his face here in this garden of lotuses, stones, benches, papercraft, and remembrance. "Let me... ugh. Okay. So we're all books pulled out of different libraries. The stories might be the same, or different because of, I don't know, a regional take, but only one page is pulled from each book. Each person we meet who knows us is knowing us from another novel entirely."
He holds up his hands, making a similar gesture to Tidus's with the ball earlier. Cramping all these individual papers together into a new binding, sewn into a haphazard whole.
"Worlds are too big for me to hold in my head. Books? I've been drowning in them since forever. Not to mention copying them..." Which is why this can make sense to him at all. Pages of the same precept exist in each written, bound form, but the way they're written, where they're stored, that changed. It didn't make it less of a headache, and Jingyi was now holding his head with one hand, scowling, but he did at least sort of get it.
"Tiiiduuuus." He whines his friend's name (congrats, you're a friend now), giving him a one squinted eye look. Is he going to try to break Jingyi's brain even more before they find whatever this treadmill was?
no subject
"Not a big deal." It wasn't, for the most part. It was just walking into unseen barriers on mistakenly familiar ground, more jarring for Jingyi than people who were drawing logical associations.
The rest of what he says, neatly avoiding Jingyi's confusion over what a Que and Aye would be, leaves him feeling cold, annoyed, angry, and headached all at once. "What the hell is with this place being against logic?" He whines, but then he stops himself, and rubs his face here in this garden of lotuses, stones, benches, papercraft, and remembrance. "Let me... ugh. Okay. So we're all books pulled out of different libraries. The stories might be the same, or different because of, I don't know, a regional take, but only one page is pulled from each book. Each person we meet who knows us is knowing us from another novel entirely."
He holds up his hands, making a similar gesture to Tidus's with the ball earlier. Cramping all these individual papers together into a new binding, sewn into a haphazard whole.
"Worlds are too big for me to hold in my head. Books? I've been drowning in them since forever. Not to mention copying them..." Which is why this can make sense to him at all. Pages of the same precept exist in each written, bound form, but the way they're written, where they're stored, that changed. It didn't make it less of a headache, and Jingyi was now holding his head with one hand, scowling, but he did at least sort of get it.
"Tiiiduuuus." He whines his friend's name (congrats, you're a friend now), giving him a one squinted eye look. Is he going to try to break Jingyi's brain even more before they find whatever this treadmill was?