Re: Island: Janus/Atticus
Atticus wasn't regretting anything. "Do prefer it. Don't mind the scars." Didn't. Felt like he could breathe. Was a strange thing to feel, since he could breathe perfectly fine on the island. Knew it was in his head. But didn't think on it too much. Just inhaled this illusion. Accepted it as real. Didn't think about that too much, either.
Raised a brow at the laugh. "Your existence is tied to religion, isn't it?" But understood somewhat. Thought he did, anyway. "Saying it isn't religion to you. Is just the life you live. Religion is about belief. Your life isn't about believing anything. Just is. Have to ask, though I suspect you won't answer: Did you make a deal to get where you are?" Assumed.
Stopped at a table, one that had books abandoned on it. A stack. Sat there. Motioned to the seat beside him. "Conjure up a puzzle," he suggested as he reached for the book stack. "Like picking up books people leave behind. I always pick similar themes or known authors when I go to a library. If I find a stack, then I'm sure to get things I don't know. If I find something I like in the stack, then it's like a connection with whoever was here before. Commonality."