#he always figured they were retired. recycled. but... as he starts to understand dying. of never coming back again... well...

[witchnordemon]

Collector tilted their head at Valor's silence again, raising an eyebrow as he turned away from them. He was about to remark with some sort of quip when...

What?

He was beginning to... sort of grasp the concept of dying, of being dead. They'd had conversations, where he tried his hardest to understand something so completely alien to himself and his kind's very existence. They knew that... that apparently, mortal beings that got old would eventually lay down and go to sleep, forever. They would not get back up, they were not safe in the Archives, and... and their physical forms would return to the earth, but...

Hope wasn't old, not by a long shot - heck, they called her baby beastie for a reason. Was she "ill", something that could happen to mortals to make them "die" occasionally, that - while sad, couldn't always be stopped?

But then what did that have to do with Belos?

That internal question was what kicked a sick, all-consuming churning feeling in his body into motion. Philip was a nice friend! He wanted only the best for everyone- he was only protecting them, because he loved them so much! Even if he was strict, or could be snappy, or mean, he would definitely send Hope away so she couldn't hurt Valor if he was worried, b-but- he wouldn't do... he wouldn't-

He flipped from lounging upside down to a seated position in an instant, right in front of Valor but staring down at the floor instead, a deeply troubled expression on his face.

��� Tha-that's not... I don't- why would- ❞ They stumbled over their words, ❝ it doesn't make sense! H-he... he wouldn't- ❞

Well, if the Collector wasn't going to notice him he wasn't going to say anything to continue the conversa- Oh nevermind.

He looked away at their question. Able to talk, but he didn't know if that counted as better. He still felt absolutely horrible, and exhausted to boot.

But . . . he really did need to tell the Collector what happened. If only so that they wouldn't keep implying that Hope was off alive somewhere.

Still refusing to look at them, he murmured, "Hope's not off with her family, Collector. She . . . She's dead."

There, he said it. He tore the words from his throat. Was that really so hard? Why couldn't he say it earlier? What was wrong with him?