[ It doesn't make sense to Alan either. In fact, it only adds to his state of confusion. Where exactly is he? How did he get here? It hasn't even registered in his mind that this is Jesse Faden that he's talking to. What even did Polaris do? Does the fact that whatever she did worked on him mean that there's more of the Dark Presence in him than he thought?
He had thought about that before. Maybe the Dark Presence wormed its way inside him too at some point. Maybe he wasn't infected by the Hiss, and maybe he wasn't one of the Taken, but he must be something, if the resonance worked on him. That's a thought he hasn't explored in full yet, and maybe he doesn't want to.
But before his thoughts can spiral off into yet another endless train of meanderings and mutterings, he realizes that a page has been set on the table in front of him. This time, Jesse's words register in full and not in bits and pieces, and he realizes that she is asking if he wrote the words on the page. She isn't the first person to ask that, but unlike the previous time, he hasn't gone off into a fit of repetitive muttering.
He scans the page quickly, but not so quickly that the words don't sink in. They do, and more than he would like. ]
He stepped outside, off the pier, and into the dark water, a sinking pinprick of light, descending toward a bottom that never came.
[ He reads the words aloud, feeling as though he recognizes them. But did he write them? The urge to grab hold of his hair again and hide his face surfaces. Why can't he remember? ]
I'm... I'm trying to remember. [ And speaking of trying to remember, he turns his attentions from the page back to Jesse. ] Have we met? We have, haven't we? [ At least, she called him Alan, which must mean something. ]
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He had thought about that before. Maybe the Dark Presence wormed its way inside him too at some point. Maybe he wasn't infected by the Hiss, and maybe he wasn't one of the Taken, but he must be something, if the resonance worked on him. That's a thought he hasn't explored in full yet, and maybe he doesn't want to.
But before his thoughts can spiral off into yet another endless train of meanderings and mutterings, he realizes that a page has been set on the table in front of him. This time, Jesse's words register in full and not in bits and pieces, and he realizes that she is asking if he wrote the words on the page. She isn't the first person to ask that, but unlike the previous time, he hasn't gone off into a fit of repetitive muttering.
He scans the page quickly, but not so quickly that the words don't sink in. They do, and more than he would like. ]
He stepped outside, off the pier, and into the dark water, a sinking pinprick of light, descending toward a bottom that never came.
[ He reads the words aloud, feeling as though he recognizes them. But did he write them? The urge to grab hold of his hair again and hide his face surfaces. Why can't he remember? ]
I'm... I'm trying to remember. [ And speaking of trying to remember, he turns his attentions from the page back to Jesse. ] Have we met? We have, haven't we? [ At least, she called him Alan, which must mean something. ]