(Just use a serving teaspoon for things that might spoil fast!!!)
"...I don't remember, if I'm going to be honest with you." The pancake is flipped in the pan, and it's looking a little bit better than the first pass, cooling on the plate next to him. The heat is cranked up a bit again, his spatula just moving wayward pieces around in the browned butter. If Tidus meant incriminating pictures, then that would be a clear no.
"And it's not because I don't want to. I just..." But really, was it? The phone put on the very back of his mind since it was useless in the second world, then suddenly finding relevance as they discussed the pasts, where their fates might intertwine. Of letting go little by little, acceptance of their lives then, and how they had to move forward now. Maybe Roland just didn't want a reminder, constantly weighing down on his back pocket - the phone his constant companion on every trip, on every job. Not pictures, but messages, an inbox, emails, papers, scripts...Not Roland the Chief Consul, or Roland the Voidtrecker. Roland the president.
He takes the pancake out of the pan, puts it on top of the first piece, and the pan is removed from the heat for now. An intermission. He grows quiet again, closing his eyes and feeling his breath, in and out, in and out. It's not for anything, he reminds himself. It's just for a photo. Just to see; a mirror back into a past that had no magic, no soulmates, no void trains and all.
His right hand opens, palm facing ceiling, and he thinks harder. The year, the model, attempts to remember its shape and its color. Goes back to the first memory of holding it in an alien land, then again when he receives his first Arms Band. There - that's it, that's what it latches on too. Gold sparkle, familiar and true, successfully summoning what he didn't think to ever use again.
A modern day cellphone, scratches on the back, a slightly cracked screen but nothing too damaging. Roland is in slight awe, leaning back against the counter as the device is studied like a foreign object.
no subject
"...I don't remember, if I'm going to be honest with you." The pancake is flipped in the pan, and it's looking a little bit better than the first pass, cooling on the plate next to him. The heat is cranked up a bit again, his spatula just moving wayward pieces around in the browned butter. If Tidus meant incriminating pictures, then that would be a clear no.
"And it's not because I don't want to. I just..." But really, was it? The phone put on the very back of his mind since it was useless in the second world, then suddenly finding relevance as they discussed the pasts, where their fates might intertwine. Of letting go little by little, acceptance of their lives then, and how they had to move forward now. Maybe Roland just didn't want a reminder, constantly weighing down on his back pocket - the phone his constant companion on every trip, on every job. Not pictures, but messages, an inbox, emails, papers, scripts...Not Roland the Chief Consul, or Roland the Voidtrecker. Roland the president.
He takes the pancake out of the pan, puts it on top of the first piece, and the pan is removed from the heat for now. An intermission. He grows quiet again, closing his eyes and feeling his breath, in and out, in and out. It's not for anything, he reminds himself. It's just for a photo. Just to see; a mirror back into a past that had no magic, no soulmates, no void trains and all.
His right hand opens, palm facing ceiling, and he thinks harder. The year, the model, attempts to remember its shape and its color. Goes back to the first memory of holding it in an alien land, then again when he receives his first Arms Band. There - that's it, that's what it latches on too. Gold sparkle, familiar and true, successfully summoning what he didn't think to ever use again.
A modern day cellphone, scratches on the back, a slightly cracked screen but nothing too damaging. Roland is in slight awe, leaning back against the counter as the device is studied like a foreign object.