[ The memory exchange is searing, so vivid that being pulled back into the present is a jolt, like they've fallen into Claude's bed from a great height. The covers flail as he startles back into reality, but he can barely move, frozen in shock. The residual feelings run through him like waves, everything between anguish and fury, love and disdain.
It's his own life—his real life—and Claude's history played side by side, context and reality surging back into his mind as the room spins. This is... not right. This is Claude's apartment, but suddenly it isn't. He grips Claude's arms and stares at him, an almost wild look in his eyes, mouth dry. ]
What... what was that?
[ Why did it feel so real? (If this is Claude, then who is Khalid?) ]
no subject
It's his own life—his real life—and Claude's history played side by side, context and reality surging back into his mind as the room spins. This is... not right. This is Claude's apartment, but suddenly it isn't. He grips Claude's arms and stares at him, an almost wild look in his eyes, mouth dry. ]
What... what was that?
[ Why did it feel so real? (If this is Claude, then who is Khalid?) ]