001
[He remembers walking upon the ruins, up to his former companions, and the sudden change is... shocking enough that he doesn't try anything right away. A journal is in his hands in another moment, voices of welcoming women piping up beside him and although they speak and he understands... the feeling of confusion is a dull, strange sensation.]
I... can't. [Can't be here, can't stay, can't waste this time. He's murmuring, low and serious, not knowing the journal records when he opens to it, before he discards it.] It has to end.
[But attempts to leave are futile. Though he doesn't ask or address the women there, they insist that he write--it doesn't matter how long he ignores them, how he uses his magic against the barrier in place... they continue to insist.
He does as told eventually. The motions of it seem so foreign, but Syaoran starts to write, not knowing what he does isn't quite enough.]
The way to leave. What is it? Everything I tried was... useless.
[. . .]
This isn't his doing. [Couldn't have been, right?]Not to somewhere like
Not yet.
[And here's a long pause, before the writing ends in an entirely resolute statement, the thought most prominent in his mind right now.]
I have to return.
[Edited to add:]
If there's more I should say or write here, I'm... not sure of it. There might be more questions that I haven't asked yet.
I don't know.
For now I'm -- glad, for those I have been able to meet here. I didn't think I would have that chance.
I... can't. [Can't be here, can't stay, can't waste this time. He's murmuring, low and serious, not knowing the journal records when he opens to it, before he discards it.] It has to end.
[But attempts to leave are futile. Though he doesn't ask or address the women there, they insist that he write--it doesn't matter how long he ignores them, how he uses his magic against the barrier in place... they continue to insist.
He does as told eventually. The motions of it seem so foreign, but Syaoran starts to write, not knowing what he does isn't quite enough.]
The way to leave. What is it? Everything I tried was... useless.
[. . .]
This isn't his doing. [Couldn't have been, right?]
Not yet.
[And here's a long pause, before the writing ends in an entirely resolute statement, the thought most prominent in his mind right now.]
I have to return.
[Edited to add:]
If there's more I should say or write here, I'm... not sure of it. There might be more questions that I haven't asked yet.
I don't know.
For now I'm -- glad, for those I have been able to meet here. I didn't think I would have that chance.