[ He still doesn't understand it himself. With Josuke having brought up that he was not aware of some very important, very key events they had all be a part of.
It didn't add up. It doesn't even now. They seem to have set that aside after a short briefing. Not much more needed to be said about the Reimi thing or the Yoshikage thing. Still, Jotaro's situation is particularly unique. ]
Don't you find it a little bizarre? I have met people from hundred of years ago who are here, fresh-faced as if they were no older than myself. [ He plucks up a bottle of vibrant, doctored candy red and holds it up in the light, peering up through it from the bottom. ] What did we do that made us prime candidates? Are we special? [ There is a twinge in his voice that may be unsettling. He is focused and falling into what might be a smooth trance. It's melodic. ]
There may be no pattern or reason at all. Why we are here, which creature we end up becoming, why we look the way we do... Or who moves the pieces on the board. [ He lets the bottle slip from his fingers, dropping it into his other hand with a thump against his scaly palm. ] It's very beautiful if you look beyond the surface.
Like a fairytale. Just one that we have to live drenched in the macabre sea of what is real. [ He holds the bottle up at eye-level, comparing the color and her hair. ] We just can't turn the page and make it end.
no subject
It didn't add up. It doesn't even now. They seem to have set that aside after a short briefing. Not much more needed to be said about the Reimi thing or the Yoshikage thing. Still, Jotaro's situation is particularly unique. ]
Don't you find it a little bizarre? I have met people from hundred of years ago who are here, fresh-faced as if they were no older than myself. [ He plucks up a bottle of vibrant, doctored candy red and holds it up in the light, peering up through it from the bottom. ] What did we do that made us prime candidates? Are we special? [ There is a twinge in his voice that may be unsettling. He is focused and falling into what might be a smooth trance. It's melodic. ]
There may be no pattern or reason at all. Why we are here, which creature we end up becoming, why we look the way we do... Or who moves the pieces on the board. [ He lets the bottle slip from his fingers, dropping it into his other hand with a thump against his scaly palm. ] It's very beautiful if you look beyond the surface.
Like a fairytale. Just one that we have to live drenched in the macabre sea of what is real. [ He holds the bottle up at eye-level, comparing the color and her hair. ] We just can't turn the page and make it end.