[ he's seen plenty of war, plenty of battles, but it's been some time since he's seen it like this, drenched with the blood of the innocent, with the pained cries echoing around him without end. his breath shakes, seeing the fallen ash from nearby explosions, and if he didn't know any better with the sight of the unfamiliar city around him, he might have momentarily thought himself to be back in stronghold.
for a man who's seen so much of this already, his face goes pale, fingers shaking, taken only away from the impending overdrive of his panic when he sees the man with a gun in hand, shooting with careful precision on a stone wall to spell out two words.
those are words he understands well. he feels them every single day.
when the man steps into a blue box and disappears suddenly, kovacs turns and sees another that is familiar this time, an understanding stitching through his mind as he comes to terms where this dream construct might have been stitched from. everyone has a war inside, likely with a memory of one, and for all that the doctor has been cheery conversations and bubbly curiosity, it doesn't surprise kovacs that there might be something darker within.
he stands with him, tall but feeling small in the middle of the wreckage, arms loose at his sides. the idea that the man with the gun is the same as the one standing with him now doesn't surprise him, not when he knows all about what it is to experience life in different bodies. ]
Because he fought a war? [ not that there aren't doctors in war. but in these kinds of situations, people tend to harm more than heal. ] What happened here?
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for a man who's seen so much of this already, his face goes pale, fingers shaking, taken only away from the impending overdrive of his panic when he sees the man with a gun in hand, shooting with careful precision on a stone wall to spell out two words.
those are words he understands well. he feels them every single day.
when the man steps into a blue box and disappears suddenly, kovacs turns and sees another that is familiar this time, an understanding stitching through his mind as he comes to terms where this dream construct might have been stitched from. everyone has a war inside, likely with a memory of one, and for all that the doctor has been cheery conversations and bubbly curiosity, it doesn't surprise kovacs that there might be something darker within.
he stands with him, tall but feeling small in the middle of the wreckage, arms loose at his sides. the idea that the man with the gun is the same as the one standing with him now doesn't surprise him, not when he knows all about what it is to experience life in different bodies. ]
Because he fought a war? [ not that there aren't doctors in war. but in these kinds of situations, people tend to harm more than heal. ] What happened here?