Nick slows to a halt as familiar voices cut in and out amongst a distorted, static curtain, his gaze locked on the flickering walls; he closes his eyes, focusing on what he hears, as there no visual representations, no ghosts or otherwise, with this one. It's hard to listen to them like this, even if he can somewhat place when this particular moment came to be. He and Rey used to talk a lot. Things have been painfully quiet since the attack, since Maketh—
An audible drip draws Nick from his thoughts and his eyes to the ground, the blood falling from seemingly nowhere in the void above him. The mind doesn't always make sense, and he never expected Rey's would, given all she's been through. Time after time, life after life, one tragedy following another. She deserves better than the hand she's been dealth; he's always believed that, and done his best to make things right for her. Nick wanted her to see what humanity had to offer, and she was kicked down once more.
Thankfully, Saf seems to realize this is one memory that could stand to go. Her voice cuts out just after her warning, but Nick remains still for another second, using the silence that follows to sort out his thoughts. Even if they encrypted all traces of Maketh, or at least their relationship, what problems would the holes in her memory cause? Will Rey remember Hadriel at all? Or him? Though he generally tries to be optimistic, to see the good in the world and work toward it, he cannot help but think of a worst-case scenario, where nothing -- not even Rey herself -- is salvageable. How many people will mourn her loss? And how will he move on?
Everything he is came from the original Nick, and if there's one thing the synth knows about the real Valentine, it's that the man struggled when he felt he'd lost everything. He's not sure how a botched copy like himself will manage, but this isn't about him. It's never been about him. Everything he does, he does for others, for the good of the world, for justice. He has to remember that, and keep moving forward.
Nick hears voices again, and takes few steps, bringing his eyes up to those concrete walls -- only to find they are no longer concrete. For a split second, they are pristine white, blindingly so; he hears voices in the distance, ones more distorted than before.
Is... is that his voice? No, Nick chides inwardly, shaking his head. It's close, but not identical... but whose is it, then? He grinds his teeth, putting a hand to his head, his frame shaking. It's only a few moments before it passes, and everything returns to normal -- as normal as it can be in this computerized mindscape of theirs. He can hear scuffling, more voices, but can't place who they're from, or when. It's not Maketh and Rey.
He takes more steps, letting the neural veins spread before him. "Safronov?"
no subject
An audible drip draws Nick from his thoughts and his eyes to the ground, the blood falling from seemingly nowhere in the void above him. The mind doesn't always make sense, and he never expected Rey's would, given all she's been through. Time after time, life after life, one tragedy following another. She deserves better than the hand she's been dealth; he's always believed that, and done his best to make things right for her. Nick wanted her to see what humanity had to offer, and she was kicked down once more.
Thankfully, Saf seems to realize this is one memory that could stand to go. Her voice cuts out just after her warning, but Nick remains still for another second, using the silence that follows to sort out his thoughts. Even if they encrypted all traces of Maketh, or at least their relationship, what problems would the holes in her memory cause? Will Rey remember Hadriel at all? Or him? Though he generally tries to be optimistic, to see the good in the world and work toward it, he cannot help but think of a worst-case scenario, where nothing -- not even Rey herself -- is salvageable. How many people will mourn her loss? And how will he move on?
Everything he is came from the original Nick, and if there's one thing the synth knows about the real Valentine, it's that the man struggled when he felt he'd lost everything. He's not sure how a botched copy like himself will manage, but this isn't about him. It's never been about him. Everything he does, he does for others, for the good of the world, for justice. He has to remember that, and keep moving forward.
Nick hears voices again, and takes few steps, bringing his eyes up to those concrete walls -- only to find they are no longer concrete. For a split second, they are pristine white, blindingly so; he hears voices in the distance, ones more distorted than before.
"I̵ ̀͘d̸͠͠o̷͢n͟'̴̢t ͘͢want҉҉ ͘t͜҉o ̕h̢͞u̶͡r̷̕t҉̢͠ ̡̨y̴o̷͟ù!̶͝"
Is... is that his voice? No, Nick chides inwardly, shaking his head. It's close, but not identical... but whose is it, then? He grinds his teeth, putting a hand to his head, his frame shaking. It's only a few moments before it passes, and everything returns to normal -- as normal as it can be in this computerized mindscape of theirs. He can hear scuffling, more voices, but can't place who they're from, or when. It's not Maketh and Rey.
He takes more steps, letting the neural veins spread before him. "Safronov?"