The same hollow words—words that had always sounded like mockery. But that night their echo was different, and the Broken Vessel, bleeding out on the ground, finally understood what lay behind them.
Pure Vessel had been alone for most of his life. He'd been treated like a noble relic, kept at a distance from his peers, to the point he never learned how to express himself properly at all.
"Are you all right?"
It wasn't scorn, nor empty phrasing. It carried weight.
It was Pure, worried that his only friend might no longer be able to keep up with him.
As if he were asking, "Can you keep going? Can you still run with me? Are you still there?"
Yes—Pure Vessel cared. Broken's presence mattered in his life. That was what Broken had failed to see.
"Just as I kept lifting my head to the sky, chasing your back… you kept turning your head, peering down into that abyss behind you—looking for me."
