[Skully sees Haunter's cheerful wave, and the tip of her long, heavy tail wiggles in response. She can see it's doing its best, and she appreciates it! Murder Chicken moves to sit next to Krieg and Dolly, tucking his long legs underneath his slender body. Once he's settled, he blinks peacefully over at Haunter, also acknowledging the ghost's actions. Haunter is a good friend.
Krieg watches Shiro sit down without reacting, and hears him talking, and he lets the sound of his friend's words flow over him while completely failing to to process the meaning behind them. He doesn't need to hear Shiro say why he and Armin are here. He knows. He knows why they came to him, and he knows he's done nothing to deserve their worry or their concern. He's just a monster who hurt his best friend, and her abrupt departure from his life is all he deserves.
He sits quietly for a long time after Shiro stops speaking, alternately staring at the ground and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Finally, though, the words come, as they always do, sooner or later, and they're...not great. His voice starts off low and gruff, and only barely increases in volume as he goes on - the sound of painful vocal cords raw from screaming protesting further abuse.]
Feed me a lead salad. Open my veins and let the blood salt the earth. Burn my flesh and scar my bones and leave it all out to rot and fester where it belongs, all alone and far, far away from all the things it shouldn't have and doesn't deserve. She should have lived! She was so bright! And now she's gone, gone, gone, back to the death she begged for, smothered into oblivion, strangled by the hands that should have kept her safe--
[He's interrupted by an impossibly quiet wail from the Sylveon still in his lap. He cuts himself off abruptly and leans forward out of his sprawl against Skully to hunch protectively over 'Dora, doing his best to console the inconsolable. He looks back up fairly quickly though, a sharp jerk of his head, and his uncovered eye seeks out Shiro's face.]
It should've been me. I don't wanna wrestle. I want to die.
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Krieg watches Shiro sit down without reacting, and hears him talking, and he lets the sound of his friend's words flow over him while completely failing to to process the meaning behind them. He doesn't need to hear Shiro say why he and Armin are here. He knows. He knows why they came to him, and he knows he's done nothing to deserve their worry or their concern. He's just a monster who hurt his best friend, and her abrupt departure from his life is all he deserves.
He sits quietly for a long time after Shiro stops speaking, alternately staring at the ground and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Finally, though, the words come, as they always do, sooner or later, and they're...not great. His voice starts off low and gruff, and only barely increases in volume as he goes on - the sound of painful vocal cords raw from screaming protesting further abuse.]
Feed me a lead salad. Open my veins and let the blood salt the earth. Burn my flesh and scar my bones and leave it all out to rot and fester where it belongs, all alone and far, far away from all the things it shouldn't have and doesn't deserve. She should have lived! She was so bright! And now she's gone, gone, gone, back to the death she begged for, smothered into oblivion, strangled by the hands that should have kept her safe--
[He's interrupted by an impossibly quiet wail from the Sylveon still in his lap. He cuts himself off abruptly and leans forward out of his sprawl against Skully to hunch protectively over 'Dora, doing his best to console the inconsolable. He looks back up fairly quickly though, a sharp jerk of his head, and his uncovered eye seeks out Shiro's face.]
It should've been me. I don't wanna wrestle. I want to die.