He does not take the hand, a seething and faintly glowing figure in the red-tinged darkness, his eyes glowing. With each passing second, he fades more and more from sight.
"Continue on, then, and see where the path leads you. With luck, it will be what you wish for."
[Thanks for LEAVING ME HANGING, BRO. Saturn shrugs.]
With luck . . . yes.
[He turns in the direction indicated and shuts his breathing off to avoid any recurrence of the smell choking him, and reaches up with one hand to take hold of Crobat's tiny foot and follow her into the dark in that direction.]
Honestly, in spite of what he was told, the remaining walk seems to take an inordinate amount of time. The air is still cleaner than it was, but there are the sounds of voices again--louder now, more openly hostile. He can make out words now, in the mess:
"--no! Stop! No, no, no, no, no... I haven't even accomplished anything yet--!"
"--I can't stand it. I spent every one of those thousand and one nights wishing for nothing more than to not die. Every fiber of my being is terrified of death!"
"This... This can't be how I die! I was... I was going to destroy...this entire world...!!!"
They're getting louder. There are so many of them.
[The curses . . . he doesn't stop for any of them, or call out to answer them. He maybe twitches here and there. But he walks. He just walks, looking straight ahead of him, holding onto Crobat, trusting in her to alert him if anything out there in the dark actually does make a move. Walk forward . . . just keep going.]
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[He turns to him, offering his hand.]
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"Continue on, then, and see where the path leads you. With luck, it will be what you wish for."
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With luck . . . yes.
[He turns in the direction indicated and shuts his breathing off to avoid any recurrence of the smell choking him, and reaches up with one hand to take hold of Crobat's tiny foot and follow her into the dark in that direction.]
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Honestly, in spite of what he was told, the remaining walk seems to take an inordinate amount of time. The air is still cleaner than it was, but there are the sounds of voices again--louder now, more openly hostile. He can make out words now, in the mess:
"--no! Stop! No, no, no, no, no... I haven't even accomplished anything yet--!"
"--I can't stand it. I spent every one of those thousand and one nights wishing for nothing more than to not die. Every fiber of my being is terrified of death!"
"This... This can't be how I die! I was... I was going to destroy...this entire world...!!!"
They're getting louder. There are so many of them.
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And then they stop.