A hundred years. Yes, Ossie's said that he was gone for a number of decades before, too, hasn't he? Arthur dreads to think how little would've been left of him after one year; he can't imagine how Ossie kept even the outline of himself together for over a hundred.
It hits him that maybe Ossie didn't. He doesn't know the man that went in, only the one that came out. Perhaps they bear no resemblance to one another at all.
John, too, didn't know how many people he'd... killed, tortured, whatever metric you want to put on it. Arthur knows, but he's-- he doesn't have the number immediately, but he knows it's there if asked for. Now. After a hundred and more years, though?
God, he remembers Ossie's reaction to Arthur's muttered comments about Erin's sins, months and months ago. He'd thought that was about manners.
"Jesus," he says again, without inflection, into his hands. He has, he realises, put his face in his hands, which means he's slipped his hand out of Ossie's, which is not what he meant to do, but--
"Let-- let me take that in."
The pit is still fresh in his mind, along with the unseen guards who dropped a man in to his death. Along with the lock of hair placed - like a gun in Arthur's hand - as if to incite him. Along with the whispers and hallucinations of his daughter before it. Countless people. Placing Ossie as part of the wheel is a nasty thing to digest.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2023-11-12 09:16 am (UTC)It hits him that maybe Ossie didn't. He doesn't know the man that went in, only the one that came out. Perhaps they bear no resemblance to one another at all.
John, too, didn't know how many people he'd... killed, tortured, whatever metric you want to put on it. Arthur knows, but he's-- he doesn't have the number immediately, but he knows it's there if asked for. Now. After a hundred and more years, though?
God, he remembers Ossie's reaction to Arthur's muttered comments about Erin's sins, months and months ago. He'd thought that was about manners.
"Jesus," he says again, without inflection, into his hands. He has, he realises, put his face in his hands, which means he's slipped his hand out of Ossie's, which is not what he meant to do, but--
"Let-- let me take that in."
The pit is still fresh in his mind, along with the unseen guards who dropped a man in to his death. Along with the lock of hair placed - like a gun in Arthur's hand - as if to incite him. Along with the whispers and hallucinations of his daughter before it. Countless people. Placing Ossie as part of the wheel is a nasty thing to digest.