[ There's a scoff, then. Derisive, but also one that said that Bruno's dramatics didn't necessarily phase him. He instead stood from his crouch, and leaned against a wall. As if putting distance would make up for the... still raw wound that he too held. ]

None of our worlds did. [ He said, with a sharp bark, after a moment. Maybe a little more forceful, but hey. He had a family -- or rather a daughter -- too. Silco, of course, would rather take it all down in revenge, but, he was probably not the most healthy of men. ] I woke up just like you did, a mere few months ago. I've merely had time to... let the wound heal over, as it were.

[ When he'd arrived, there had been nobody to stop, and explain things, only soldiers, with their mind-controlling whips, and their need to push them to a gathering, where they would all stay, for a long while, until the "ceremony". It had been... harrowing. Silco still bore the mark of the Visionary on his wrist. ]

If you want to deny the reality of it, you'll be stuck here heaving for hours, miserable. Or, you can take that misery and do something with it. I chose not to dwell. That's what's wrong with me.