Jude has his attention, Marcus listening with the clear desire to understand what he's hearing—even if he does not, always, giving little in the way of response to asides about the internet, through to the metaphysical realities of this strange little community.
But all is listened to, processed quietly. Processed cautiously.
This is the Fade. Intellectually, he knows that much, there's been enough spoken in proximity to him to understand that even if Jude's world was real, and not in itself a dream construct embodied in the man sitting here against the tree to carry alone, this place they're in now is even less tangibly real. Not to be trusted.
It's possible to know something and understand it and not quite, viscerally, believe it. And so, he can't help but take this all more seriously than he might have done if Jude had been compelled to explain this to him, for whatever reason, back in Thedas.
When something goes wrong is when he finally breaks unnerving focus, looking out at the river. The tidal tug of grief for something nameless, beneath a natural inclination to express none of it.
no subject
But all is listened to, processed quietly. Processed cautiously.
This is the Fade. Intellectually, he knows that much, there's been enough spoken in proximity to him to understand that even if Jude's world was real, and not in itself a dream construct embodied in the man sitting here against the tree to carry alone, this place they're in now is even less tangibly real. Not to be trusted.
It's possible to know something and understand it and not quite, viscerally, believe it. And so, he can't help but take this all more seriously than he might have done if Jude had been compelled to explain this to him, for whatever reason, back in Thedas.
When something goes wrong is when he finally breaks unnerving focus, looking out at the river. The tidal tug of grief for something nameless, beneath a natural inclination to express none of it.