2: A small reprieve
Underground visitor, gn reader x monster (male drider). Sfw. Previous Next
It’s an awkward trek back toward the rocky formations. Your host for the night has underway introduced himself as Dren, and you’ve offered you name in turn. The storm is getting worse, as Dren said, wind picking up to harsher levels and rain pouring still.
Dren keeps a respectful distance, mindful not to scare you, though he still hovers behind you as if preparing to catch you should the wind cause you to fly off.
Adrenaline has somewhat worn off by the time you get back, and, now able to feel your body again, you find yourself downright miserable.
Dren quickly ushers you inside the cave, relieved of being out of the storm. The entrance is pitch black, and you note now that this open hole in the rock formation indeed stretches deeper into the ground. Instinctively you reach for your phone to get a flashlight out, but the disappointingly empty pocket of your jacket reminds you it's currently lying in a bush somewhere being useless.
You watch as Dren vanishes in the pitch blackness as he casually walk further in, dark body blending in perfectly. You hear his scuttling footsteps falter when he realizes you’re not following.
“Is something the matter?” his voice reaches you from the dark, and you can’t help but shudder when you can’t locate its origins at all.
“It’s very dark,” you tell him, staring into the gaping abyss. “I don’t know where to put my feet.”
“Oh,” the voice says. “You can’t – hold on. Stay right there, please.”
There a moment of pause where you just feel eyes on you, so you nod at the dark. You hear Dren’s footsteps receding.
The storm rages outside, and you turn around to watch the violently jerking movements of the trees and plants, watching fallen leaves rake across the night sky and the rain still pouring. This could be an opportunity to change your mind and leave this place before you enter the darkness. But what is more dangerous? The elements or the benevolent spider?
You may have to take a chance and stay put to find out.
A few minutes later you hear the clicking noises of Dren’s steps approaching and whip around. To your surprise, an actual light source is hastily coming your way.
Dren is holding an old-time lit oil lantern. It gives a decent light in the dark. He stops in front of you and holds it out to you, looking somewhat relieved you’re still there.
“I rarely get guests, and I can see fine in the dark. I had forgotten that you might not,” he explains, sheepish. “Luckily I kept this thing.”
You gingerly take it, mindful not to brush against his clawed fingers, and now you’re finally able to really get a look at your host.
His entire lower body is a pitch black spiders body, with rough hairs running along his abdomen, eight pointed legs protruding from under his upper body. Said body is a humanoid naked torso with a pudgy but strong build, chest and upper arms partially covered in the same rough looking hairs. Those on his head are long and dark, currently wet and plastered to his face. Hidden behind the stray locks you see now he indeed has four eyes in total, colored like obsidian, two on each side of his face. On top of the mouth are two fanged mandibles.
It’s hard not to gawk.
He tilts his head at you, and you realize you’re staring. “Sorry,” you say, quickly glancing away. “I’ve just never seen anyone like you before.”
Dren gives you an odd look. “..Never?” he seems somewhat perplexed. “But you’re – well. Let’s talk when we get settled in,” he nods at your drenched clothes. “I may have some spare fabrics for you as well.”
Dren leads you through a series of tunnels dug into the earth, wide enough to comfortably house his large form and you walking next to him. The ceilings are covered in webbing, and you thank the stars it’s not on the ground you’re walking on, lest you got stuck in the stuff again.
“Did you dig this out?” you ask, mostly to fill the silence.
Dren nods. “Took a while, but it was worth it. I even managed to dig out an underground water source that was connected to the main cave system,” there's a slight pride in his voice, and it’s not hard to see why.
Looking nearer, you spot multiple intricate carvings running along the walls and floors, skillfully crafted into the dirt. They run along the entire distance you walk, the circling patterns almost hypnotic to look at. It must have taken him weeks if not months to do them.
The route he leads you contains multiple twists and turns, and the tunnels branch off in different directions several times, some even vanishing up and above you, some falling further down below.
You have no idea how Dren navigates them, taking turns left and right seemingly, to you, at random. After just a few minutes walking you realize you’re hopelessly lost in the system, which does not speak well for your confidence being here.
It means you’ll have to trust Dren to lead you safely to the outside again.
You glance up at him. He’s looking ahead with a neutral expression that’s a bit hard to read, though he catches your eye and offers a small fanged smile with a tilt of his head.
You look away again.
Your host leads you into a larger room dug out of the ground. The lantern illuminates it well enough. The first thing you notice is the walls and floors here are, like the tunnels, carved full of intricate designs and patterns. Flora, fauna and symbols unknown to you decorate the surfaces all around you. Looking up, you find the ceiling here is also covered in web.
In a corner, you spot a pile of different items put side by side - clothing, blankets, both neatly folded, some skins and furs, but also cups, pots, and different kitchen utensils. Opposite that is a large table, upon which decorative wooden sculptures are set. There’s a hole dug into the further wall, perhaps acting as a fireplace judging from the shape, though it doesn't seem to have seen much use.
In the other end of the room, you spot two other entrance points, though the lantern is not powerful enough to illuminate what lies further inside.
"This is where I spend most of my waking hours," Dren says, watching you take in the surroundings. "I guess you would call it something like a 'living room'."
You put a palm across the intricate carvings in the walls, surprised at how sturdy the soil is. It almost feels like running your hand over wood. "You did these as well?" you ask him.
"I did," he nods. "Do you like them?"
"They're beautiful."
Dren rubs his arms, sheepish. "Thank you. To be honest, one of the reasons I dug out so much space is to carve the walls," he chuckles. "I get bored down here easily."
"Must be handy that you can just carve out another room whenever you want. Although, the tunnel system has me completely lost," you laugh nervously.
"I'd imagine so," Dren says, and smiles gently. "I designed them that way."
You ignore the small goosebumps on your skin. "You made them confusing on purpose?"
"Confusing perhaps if you're not the one who built the system. What kind of constructor couldn't find his way in his own home?" he replies. "It's mainly because of snatchers. A confusing system means they waste time trying to find their way around. Their wasted time becomes extra time for me to stop them."
"What's a snatcher?" you ask.
Dren laughs, but stops once he realizes it's a serious question. He gives you that same odd look. "You - you truly don't know?"
You shake your head no and shrug.
"You're really not from around here, are you?" he muses. "Well, put simply, they snatch our eggs, hence the name. Roughly your size and shape, as I mentioned. They just happen to have scales, eyes and teeth like a snake. Nasty little things.”
Dren clasps his hands together and, as if in some sort of uncanny imitation, so does the pedipalps of his lower body. “But first things first, we should get you dry."
He walks over to the pile and start picking up some of the folded clothing items, mumbling something about sizes and temperature. He glances at you once in a while, as if using you for reference.
"These should do," he picks out a beige woolen shirt, a pair of brown leather pants and some long undergarments, and hands them to you. "I was going to use these for trading come spring, though you would probably have more use of them now."
You nod your thanks. "Is there somewhere I can go change?" you ask politely, not too keen on being exposed in front of a complete stranger, humanoid spider or not.
Dren looks at you puzzled, but only briefly. "Oh - of course. I'll give you some privacy. Actually, if you would hand me the lantern-?"
You're reluctant to part with your only source of light down here, especially considering you're not entirely trusting Dren yet.
It must have shown on your face, as he quickly adds: "You can have it back, I just want to use the already lit flame to light up more around here. It would be incredibly rude to have my guest stumbling around in the dark, after all. You can get changed while I light up some of the tunnels."
You hand it to him, and he quickly gets to work picking out more lanterns from inside some hollowed out parts of the wall that must act as a storage.
Why would he have a bunch of lanterns lying around if he doesn't need them?
Dren lights them, and you watch as he stretches himself up, and grabs onto the ceiling with his legs. In one fluid motion, he brings himself up.
Suddenly seeing him climbing around upside down causes you to take a wary step back, but he merely uses this new position to more easily attach the lit lanterns to some strings in the web covering the ceiling.
Three of them are now illuminating the room nicely.
Dren crawls over you you, still upside down, and reaches out the lantern he borrowed back to you. "I will not be illuminating everything for now. That would take hours, and far exceed my supply of lanterns," he smiles. "Keep this one in case you turn up somewhere you can't see."
You take it, quietly pondering just how big this cave system must be.
"Please make yourself comfortable. I'll return in a few minutes."
With that, Dren walks across the ceiling down one of the other hallways and out of view.
Once you're sure he's gone, you hastily shrug out of your wet clothes, shuddering a bit against the cool air as it hits your exposed skin. To your surprise, the clothes Dren has selected for you fit you like a glove. They have a pleasant earthy smell, and quickly a cozy warmth spreads through your body. You wonder why Dren would have something like this as well, seeing as he doesn't exactly require pants, nor a shirt judging from his bare torso.
You fold your own wet clothes and place them on the table, unsure what to do with your hands.
A few minutes later Dren returns, and lowers himself back on the floor at the entrance to the living room.
"That should do for now," he sighs and stretches. He looks you over. "They fit you well. Are you comfortable?"
"Much better dry," you reply. "Thanks."
Dren nods, and walks over to the pile and picks out some skins. He hands you a sheepskin.
"I - don't have chairs," he says, apologetic, and motions for you to sit.
You get settled on the ground, and Dren folds his legs in and settles across from you, leaning his torso on his pedipalps and peering at your face. The casual notion of just sitting on the floor is an odd contrast to your current level of wariness.
“I am curious to where you actually are from,” he starts. “Even with their custodian it’s odd to find a sentry roaming around at night, and you have seemingly ventured out on your own. Did something happen?”
“You mentioned that before,” you note, subtly scooting a bit back in a subconscious attempt to avoid his staring. “But I’m not sure I follow. What do you mean custodian? What’s a sentry?”
He blinks. “What’s a – hm.”
He goes eerily quiet for a moment, contemplating. “I must admit I find it somewhat hard to believe you’ve never met a drider before. How come you haven’t?”
Drider, that’s the word. Your brain must have had a field day cooking up this fever dream from somewhere in your subconscious. At least it had the decency to provide the horrifying person in front of you with manners.
His sentence catches up with you. Oh. He thinks you’re lying. That’s probably not good.
How come you’ve never seen one like him before? Well, usually the forests you’re familiar with have other more comprehensive beings that could potentially chase you through the dark.
You cough. “Well, I don’t really know how to explain it. Until I met you, I had no idea anything like you even existed. I promise, I’m as confused as you are.”
He frowns at this, concerned. “Have you been isolated somewhere?” he asks gently. “Are you running away from someone? You can tell me, I won’t make you go back.”
“What? No, no, nothing like that.”
“Then what?” he prods, lower body quietly chittering. “I think it’d be in both of our best interest if you didn’t lie to me.”
You feel a bit scrutinized, suddenly finding yourself under a weirdly gentle interrogation. The slight amount of ease you’ve felt has been efficiently herded away by the calculating expression on Dren’s face.
He’s barely done a thing, and yet you suddenly feel like you’re being measured, like your response will be a deciding factor in how your stay here will go. You wonder if you’d have time to run if he decides to not host you here anymore.
Which brings another clarity.
You can’t exactly get away from here if you had to, can you?
Dren has utilized a calm demeanor to ease your tension, provided shelter and a light in the dark to lure you in. He has managed to twist and turn you through the caving system, and now you find yourself trapped in a maze you could never find your way out of with a being who could end you on a whim.
You have no control of what happens to you right now. Nothing is holding you down, yet you still find yourself caught. It brings a bad taste in your mouth, having been manipulated so easily.
But even so, nothing of this conversation so far has shown any intend to physically harm you.
Your host just wants to be sure who you are.
Right?
To be fair, if you were in Dren’s position you would probably also have a hard time believing some random person just appeared out of thin air and start making assumptions as well. Though, having already been on the receiving end of his wrath, albeit undeserved, you’re not keen on getting there again.
But what more can you do when you’re already telling the truth?
You force yourself to look at his face. He’s watching you gather your thoughts, patient as ever.
“I just – I don’t think this is my world anymore," you start, feeling the puzzle pieces fall into place. "I know how it sounds - I was just walking home. Then the storm happened, the darkness, I couldn’t see anything. I stumbled around until I found the entrance to the cave and well – that’s it. I have no idea how I got here. I promise, this is all foreign to me.”
Dren watches you for a moment, thoughtful. You hold your breath.
“'Not your world'?” he repeats slowly, tasting the words. “Truly?”
“Not anymore,” you affirm.
There’s a heavy silence for a bit where you hold his eye.
Eventually, Dren nods. “Alright then. Blue moons, no wonder you’re so confused.”
You blink at him. Just like that? “You're taking this quite well."
"If that is your truth, then that is your truth," he shrugs.
Okay. You can't tell if that means he either still doesn't believe you but doesn't want to 'pry', or he's taking your words at face value.
Or maybe he just thinks you're insane and thus unaware you're lying. Honestly? You’ll take whatever if it means you’re not about to be lunch.
You let out a breath. "I wouldn't have believed me either. To be honest, I’m not sure I’m not just dead and this is all some sort of Limbo.���
“Hah. Well, not to worry. I’m quite sure you’re still very much alive,” Dren says, glint in his eyes. “But I’m afraid I don’t have much answers to your predicament. I’m not exactly an expert in – well. Out-of-world-things.”
“That we have in common,” you mumble.
You try and think back to what might have happened. The all-encompassing darkness did seem alive somehow. And the storm kicked up rather abruptly. But normally, you would just throw that off as you being exhausted and climate change.
You wonder how you vanishing to wherever-this-is has an effect on wherever-home-is and frown in worry. What will happen to the things you left behind? And how do you get back to them?
If you even get out of this cave again.
"You took a lot of turns down here on purpose, didn't you?" you ask. It's not judgmental, just stating a fact.
Dren smiles again, seemingly pleased you caught on. "I may have tipped things in my favor. You understand I had to make sure you weren't a threat to me. I'm now convinced you're not."
“A threat to you?" you say, incredulous. "Why would you bring me here if you didn’t think I was harmless?”
“No one’s ever harmless,” he chuckles. “Your story is hard to believe, but given your strange reaction upon seeing me, your foreign clothing, your genuine confusion – well, stranger things have happened.
“Usually, if a sentry is out alone, one of two things have happened. Either their custodian is dead, or they’re running away. One leaves them fragile, the other with immense potential danger to me. I had to be sure which you were. Just odd it turns out you are neither.”
"Huh," you say. "I think I have some terminology to catch up on to understand anything of what you just said.”
Dren laughs. “Apologies. I’ll explain what I can. Shortly put, a sentry is a being such as yourself. You only exists few and far between here. It is exceedingly rare to see one. I'll count myself lucky.”
You shake you head. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m a human,” you tell him. “A sentry is like a position in a job.”
He shrugs. “I assume that’s your word for your kind, but you're very much the same. But I suppose you could look at it as a job. You keep watch, after all. Mostly when the custodian is asleep or otherwise incapacitated.”
“And the custodian..?”
“In return for their watchful eye, the custodian provides shelter, protection,” Dren elaborates. “Since you’re very rare, most tend to become a little overprotective. There’s a lot of competition. It’s not unheard of that one custodian will fight the other for their sentry.”
Your brow furrows. “They fight? For us? Why?”
Dren nods, and counts on his fingers as he speaks. “For one; you're capable of creating and maintaining a bond with custodians that other species simply cannot - You connect differently.
"And two, no less important, you don't hibernate. Most custodians are attacked and killed when they’re at their most vulnerable during this time,” he frowns momentarily, focusing on you. “Having a sentry to keep watch through winter is almost guaranteed survival.”
Huh.
You guess that explains Dren’s previous mistrust of your confusion if he thought you were one of those things and related to a 'custodian'. It seems there’s a very intricate balance between the two. You wonder what one of them might look like.
“But then – why would a sentry run? If they're supposed to work together?” you ask.
Dren’s eyes darken. “Not all custodians do their jobs well.” It hangs heavy that he chooses not to elaborate. “I was worried that was what had happened to you.”
“Oh. Well, no worries. I just fell out of the sky,” you jest. “Not any of the .. other business.”
He chuckles. “While that is also hardly a satisfactory situation, I am glad to hear you haven't gone through an overly aggressive custodian.”
You nod mutely. This is all a lot to take in and you get the feeling there’s way more for you to learn about this place. This dynamic seems odd at best, though what he has told you does spark some hope.
If humans and sentries are indeed the same, it must mean that there are other people like you out there. Maybe there’s a reason you’re a rarity in this world – maybe someone else got here the same way you did? Could someone else have found a way to get back?
But even if so, where would you even start looking?
“You look exhausted,” Dren notes gently, his voice bringing you out of your thoughts. “I can set up a place for you to rest? We can talk more in the morning.”
“That obvious?” you sigh. “That would be nice. Thank you.”
Dren gets to his feet and starts collecting some more furs and skins from the pile. He ventures toward one of the tunnels he vanished behind before. “This way.”
While you’re hesitant to traverse even more of the huge labyrinth that makes up Dren's home, thankfully he doesn’t lead you far from the ‘living room’. The (now lit) tunnel takes an easy right, and opens into a medium sized room with different sized pockets dug out of the earth.
Dren carefully deposits his pile of soft items into one of them – thankfully one close to the ground, you note – neatly putting things in place. He turns to you.
“I hope this is – adequate, for now,” he fidgets, “I don’t have things your kind usually use.”
“At this point I could sleep on a boulder if I had to,” you joke, and peer inside the makeshift nest of furs he’s made for you. It looks cozy enough, for a literal hole in the ground. “I’ll be fine.”
Dren nods, but keeps looking at you for a moment. “If you need water, just exit again and turn left instead. You’ll come across a stream,” he says, listing off things like you would to politely inform a house-guest back home and cover their basic needs. He turns, and heads toward the exit. “I’ll let you rest.”
“Dren?” you call just as he’s about to vanish.
He looks over.
“I know we had a – rocky start,” you snort, “but, I’m grateful for all this. Thanks for letting me crash.”
He frowns in worry. “Crash?”
“Oh – uh. Stay. Thanks for letting me stay.”
His look softens as he smiles. “Sleep well.”
His footsteps recede as he vanishes down the tunnel.
You try and settle in under the unfamiliar covers. The furs have a quite potent musky scent to them that you'll need to get used to, though they prove quite warm and soft. They provide decent padding on the hard ground, but it's still not the most comfortable place you've settled in for some rest.
Is it okay to fall asleep here? You don't know if you can. So much have happened in such a short amount of time, and you're not sure how to exactly process everything. Some part of you is still holding out hope you'll wake up and find yourself awakening from a coma in a hospital bed.
What are you going to do if that's not the case?
You were lucky enough to at least find some shelter for now, though you still don't exactly trust your host for a multitude of reasons. Is going to sleep with him still roaming around to do whatever when you're out cold really a very safe option? For all of Dren's hospitality and his seemingly friendly disposition, you can't forget he's still made sure you can't find your way out if you so did desire. Does that make you a captive?
Maybe it does. You're honestly not sure.
Fact still remains, you're exhausted. What's done is done. You're better of figuring all of this out with a clear head.
You reach over and turn off the lantern. The darkness envelopes you immediately, and the first thing to notice here is just how silent the dark is. Your previous residence has accustomed you to the occasional sound of muffled voices from your neighbors, the passing of a car outside your window, the faint creaking of the walls settling.
Other than an occasional drip from condensed water or the gentle hum of the cavern echo, there's no sound down here at all. Without the lanterns on it's like being in a sensory deprivation chamber. There's just nothing. How Dren hasn't gone completely mad down here seemingly alone in the dark is beyond you, but maybe that's a spider thing.
You clutch the furs covering you a bit tighter and curl up. It's going to be a long night.
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Oh GOD another character focused comic. My brain moves at 1847297329 MPH but my dreadful hands draw so slow…
I had more to this but I wasn’t feeling the direction so I’m just gonna leave it at this. TLDR, Val is struggling with a broken heart and is confused and somewhat angered as to why Ingo isn’t. But I suck at conclusions so here we are LMAO
IDs below cut!
[ID: A digital, non-colored, sketchy comic spread across 5 images.
3 characters are featured. The main character is Valerio, who has jaw-length, wavy black hair, parted in the middle by a widows peak; a triangular face, rounded at the edges to highlight his youthfulness; a thin, hooked nose; and two healed facial scars, one above his right eye, one on his left jawline. He has a thin and lean frame, with slight musculature, and a large scar on his left hip. He’s only wearing briefs, having been trying to get to sleep. The other two characters are Ingo and Emmet, twins with only some slight differences. Both of them have more oval-shaped heads, wrinkled around the eyes, mouth, and brow to show age; thin, long noses that are slightly upturned; strongly receding hairlines, although not completely bald, hair short and slightly fluffy; and sideburns that look almost like an insects’ mandibles, cus that’s how my brain wants to describe them. Ingo appears to be slightly more muscular than Emmet, who’s more on the thinner side, and Ingo’s mouth tends to be depicted like an upwards triangle, a constant frown, while Emmet’s mouth tends to be depicted like a downwards triangle, a constant smile. It’s implied both of them sleep near-nude as well, and are shirtless throughout the comic.
The first image contains three panels, one on the left and two to the right of it, one on top of the other. The first panel shows Ingo and Emmet in bed, Emmet resting on Ingo’s chest, while Ingo looks off panel at a ringing noise heard to his right. The second panel shows the source of the ringing, Ingo’s phone, being held up by Ingo off panel. The incoming call is from Valerio. The third panel is Ingo and Emmet again, but Ingo’s answered the call, a tired and confused look on his face. Emmet scrunches up his face in annoyance. Ingo says, “Valerio? Sorry, it’s late over here, but are you okay?” In small text, Emmet whispers, “Why the fuck is he calling?” Ingo whispers back, “Emmie, hush.”
The second image contains four panels in a 2-2 format, top to bottom. The first panel is Ingo and Emmet again. Emmet is smiling, but in an irritated and annoyed way, and Ingo appears less confused and more worried. From the phone, Valerio asks, “… Do you… feel real, Ingo?” Ingo replies, “… What?” In small text again, Emmet mutters, “Does he have to do this shit right now.” Ingo mutters back, “Emmet. Hush.” The second panel shows Ingo worriedly getting out of bed, looking back at Emmet who’s sitting up, still appearing annoyed. Ingo says to Emmet, “Just give me a second, Em.” Emmet replies, “Fine. Fuck off.” Ingo says, “Emmie…” and Emmet replies, “Just go and help the fucking kid out, Arceus fuck.” Ingo replies, “Alright, alright…” The third panel shows a cup of coffee with Ingo’s hand laying over it, leading into the fourth panel where Ingo is speaking with Val over the phone, coffee in his other hand. Ingo says, stretching between both panels, “Talk to me, Valerio. What doesn’t feel real? Is it just being back home? Do you maybe feel a little… out of place, being away so long?” Valerio responds, “… didn’t you?”
The third image contains only two panels, side by side, mostly dialogue heavy. The first panel contains Ingo, calmly talking into the phone. His dialogue stretches into the second panel, finally showing Valerio, who’s crying heavily, laid on his side in bed, phone next to him. Ingo says, “Not particularly, actually. I know, I’ve been there for a decade, but… I saw Emmie, and it all came back to me. I realized what I missed, who I missed. I still have my memories of Hisui. The people there will always be in my heart, the time I spent with them will always be important to me. But I’m glad to be home now, Valerio. This is our home.”
The fourth image contains four panels, 2 on top and 2 on bottom. The first panel shows Ingo, still speaking into the phone. There’s not really a whole lot of dynamic movement here lol, sorry. Ingo says, “… Why do you think you feel so differently, Valerio?” Val responds, “Fuck if I know. I just feel so… hollow. Wrong, here…” The second panel shows Valerio, who moved to lay on his back, staring away from the phone, his left hand grabbing at the bed blanket. Ingo asks, “… Do you miss anybody, Valerio? … You miss Volo, don’t you?” Val responds, “I… goddamnit.” The third panel shows Val sitting up, dangling his feet off the edge of the bed. He’s holding his phone now in his right hand. Val says, “… I went to Hisui the other day - “Sinnoh,” I mean…” Ingo asks, “How was it?” Val continues, “… I went to Volo’s grave.” The fourth panel closes up on Valerio’s face, panicked, confused. Sad. Val continues, “It… it didn’t - I was JUST talking to him, just a few weeks ago, I… fuck, it’s like there’s the rational part of my brain, that reminds me that was all 200 years ago, but… It - it can’t be, he can’t be dead… he was just here…”
The fifth image contains 4 panels, two on top and two on bottom again. The first panel shows Valerio, quieted from his previous panic, replaced by an overwhelming sadness. He holds his face in his left hand, phone in the other. Val finishes, “… I do miss him. A lot…” Ingo replies, “Oh Valerio… I’m sorry. I visited the burial sites for the clans some time ago as well. It was cathartic, for me, at least… but it sounds like it was too soon for you.” The second panel shows Ingo, still talking through the phone. Valerio says, “Fuckin’ seems like it, huh?” Ingo replies, “Valerio… do you have someone to talk to about this?” The third panel shifts back to Valerio again, still sad, but now confusion shows in his expression. Val responds, “… I’m talking to you.” Ingo says, “Valerio, I can’t help you with this. I’m sorry, I don’t have the means-” Val interrupts, “So what, some shrink would? Ingo, please, you’re literally the only one on earth who understands…” The fourth panel shifts back to Ingo, who says, “Valerio, I get the weird space-time bullshit, I do. You’re dealing with a broken heart, son. You’re dealing with grief. Maybe a therapist wouldn’t totally understand, but they know how to help with grief. Just… consider it, please, Valerio. A therapist, or your mother, your cousin, anyone.”
It ends there. The comic was purposefully left incomplete.
END ID.]
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