[Sabo is new to this place; he hasn't been here long at all, and he's honestly still trying to figure out what's going on, what's here, and if everything he sees is real or not.
But when he watches the feed, the first thing he thinks is that this can't be real. Ace is dead -- he read that in the paper. The paper, for all of its faults, never actually lies. Besides, that headline in the paper was enough to send all of his past memories, what he recalled and knew about his brothers, flooding back.
Staring at the feed, he's tempted to go to where he believes the grave is, based off of its location in the real world, but pauses. There's no way that these kids would damage a grave, right? Leaning closer to the device, he narrows his eyes in a futile effort to watch their every move, still sure that they wouldn't, they couldn't do a thing to a grave, but then --
Is that ...]
A--
[He's talking to himself, obviously, but the words come out slowly, quietly, as if he isn't saying them at all. This is a dream, it has to be, he can't be alive --]
Ace?
[After the feed ends, the revolutionary stares into the distance, into nothing for about fifteen minutes or so, fighting back any tears that are stubbornly trying to form. Eventually, he stands, puts on his hat and grabs his pipe, and then heads out to where the grave should be. He has to get to the bottom of this.
Once he arrives, he notices the figure that looks like his late brother, and before he can do a thing, say a thing at all, he falls to his knees.]
no subject
But when he watches the feed, the first thing he thinks is that this can't be real. Ace is dead -- he read that in the paper. The paper, for all of its faults, never actually lies. Besides, that headline in the paper was enough to send all of his past memories, what he recalled and knew about his brothers, flooding back.
Staring at the feed, he's tempted to go to where he believes the grave is, based off of its location in the real world, but pauses. There's no way that these kids would damage a grave, right? Leaning closer to the device, he narrows his eyes in a futile effort to watch their every move, still sure that they wouldn't, they couldn't do a thing to a grave, but then --
Is that ...]
A--
[He's talking to himself, obviously, but the words come out slowly, quietly, as if he isn't saying them at all. This is a dream, it has to be, he can't be alive --]
Ace?
[After the feed ends, the revolutionary stares into the distance, into nothing for about fifteen minutes or so, fighting back any tears that are stubbornly trying to form. Eventually, he stands, puts on his hat and grabs his pipe, and then heads out to where the grave should be. He has to get to the bottom of this.
Once he arrives, he notices the figure that looks like his late brother, and before he can do a thing, say a thing at all, he falls to his knees.]