[ Whatever power this place can give him, Greg's sure he doesn't want it. There's no way he can be complacent in some twisted, demented spat between those two.
Yet as he glowers at Blanche, his breath catches, and his chest goes tight. It comes in a rush, the briefest of warnings before he remembers; bloodless carnage, bodies burst into clouds and glittering shards. And him, watching, unable to help, unable to do a single thing.
He's one small, little ghost in a battlefield, insignificant in the face of the grand battle happening around him. He'd begged to see, to understand, and now he really did.
In the present, the glare has melted into a grimace. Greg doesn't take to anger well. He's far better at fear, and regret. Static is buzzing in to warn him, but it's unneeded; he already knows it's pointless.
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Yet as he glowers at Blanche, his breath catches, and his chest goes tight. It comes in a rush, the briefest of warnings before he remembers; bloodless carnage, bodies burst into clouds and glittering shards. And him, watching, unable to help, unable to do a single thing.
He's one small, little ghost in a battlefield, insignificant in the face of the grand battle happening around him. He'd begged to see, to understand, and now he really did.
In the present, the glare has melted into a grimace. Greg doesn't take to anger well. He's far better at fear, and regret. Static is buzzing in to warn him, but it's unneeded; he already knows it's pointless.
He looks away from Blanche. ]