he remembers the cool night air, crisp with the scent of water and living things out in the dark. he remembers it well, considering he does not need to see this memory on a literal loop; he has played it many times before, unnecessitated by this event.
the players set the stage on that bridge. himself, his brother elijah, and marcellus. his son, his friend, the man he loved and chose as family. anger and sorrow eat him up, remembering. anger at his brother, for committing the deed. anger at marcel, for what cruelty he committed afterwards, when they learned he hadn't died. sorrow and grief and longing in spite of it all, now.
seeing it all again once was enough. it should have been enough, but klaus finds his way back during the event, the door hanging ajar behind him.
he doesn't want to be reminded of the violence or the consequences. or perhaps he does. perhaps he wants the validity of that anger, that self-loathing, that seal upon his fate.
floor 2 ; room 6a