[He reaches his left hand at Fiddleford, clutching at him. He's weak, and it's a miracle he hasn't gone into shock yet (but he's not far off).]
Fidds... I'm sorry... I-- [Ford leans on Fiddleford, resting his head on him as he can barely hold it up. He is as terrified as he sounds.] ...I-I'm sorry.... I left him, I left Stanley, I-- I left you... I'm so sorry.
[Perhaps most surprisingly, this big strong old owl lets out a sob. The emotional agony is comparable to the physical. He wishes he was unconscious again. Death would be better than dying slowly like this. The weakness, the way his entire body feels so heavy, the desperation and guilt... he might as well be 10 years old again.]
I let him into my head, I let him... back in... I didn't want to, I didn't, oh God, I'm sorry... [He left Stan. Frisk held him down while Rick pulverised his arm. He left Stan. He let Bill into his mind. He left Fiddleford alone. He left his brother.
Softly, Ford cries against his friend's shoulder.]
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Fidds... I'm sorry... I-- [Ford leans on Fiddleford, resting his head on him as he can barely hold it up. He is as terrified as he sounds.] ...I-I'm sorry.... I left him, I left Stanley, I-- I left you... I'm so sorry.
[Perhaps most surprisingly, this big strong old owl lets out a sob. The emotional agony is comparable to the physical. He wishes he was unconscious again. Death would be better than dying slowly like this. The weakness, the way his entire body feels so heavy, the desperation and guilt... he might as well be 10 years old again.]
I let him into my head, I let him... back in... I didn't want to, I didn't, oh God, I'm sorry... [He left Stan. Frisk held him down while Rick pulverised his arm. He left Stan. He let Bill into his mind. He left Fiddleford alone. He left his brother.
Softly, Ford cries against his friend's shoulder.]