( Oh — damn. This isn't an easy thing to answer at all, is it.
It's a perfectly valid question, but it's the first time Peter's seen someone voice it. It sits uneasy in his chest, burrows in and feels too tight against his ribs. )
Yeah— they do come back. ( He already sounds apologetic, regretful. He's gotten glimpses of the kind of world Sansa came from, and.... thinking about this version of her, smaller and wider-eyed, makes his stomach hurt.
(He thinks about the version of himself he left back home, sixteen years old and stepping into a treehouse illuminated by flickering candlelight. No longer "Peter", but what if some of him does still exist? Is he trapped and aching? Screaming inside of himself, for the rest of his life?) )
I, uh. I think you'll go back. Back home. But I don't think you'll remember... being here.
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It's a perfectly valid question, but it's the first time Peter's seen someone voice it. It sits uneasy in his chest, burrows in and feels too tight against his ribs. )
Yeah— they do come back. ( He already sounds apologetic, regretful. He's gotten glimpses of the kind of world Sansa came from, and.... thinking about this version of her, smaller and wider-eyed, makes his stomach hurt.
(He thinks about the version of himself he left back home, sixteen years old and stepping into a treehouse illuminated by flickering candlelight. No longer "Peter", but what if some of him does still exist? Is he trapped and aching? Screaming inside of himself, for the rest of his life?) )
I, uh. I think you'll go back. Back home. But I don't think you'll remember... being here.