[ He does, in fact, wake up. There's the briefest moments of peace when he does. There's grass under his fingers. He can feel it. The grass, but also his fingers. He can feel the mask on his face, the one that is definitely there, and the ribbon tied around his head, the same head attached to his body, and everything is fine. He's here. All of him is here.

Instead of breathing a sigh of relief or having the very normal reaction of thinking "yeah, of course I'm all here", he freaks out. You're okay, you're okay, you're okay, he tells himself, but he can still feel being having all of his muscles and nerves shredded apart and the knife cutting into him by that crazy doctor. All of him, just… enough to fit in a cooking pot. All but his eye.

…

He decided he doesn't like soup, actually. He's just going to stay curled on the ground for a minute or two in silence. Don't mind him. ]

[ Brook isn't a fan of the photos, actually. Thank you. He doesn't want it. Instead, he stands by the fireplace of the inn and lights it, using the photo as nothing more than kindling and watching the face of a rather apathetic child burn in front of him.

He hates this place. Maybe not as much as he hated Purgatory, but it's still got time to surpass even that, he supposes. ]

[ There's probably something to be said about trying to figure out where he is, or, you know, talking to someone. The end of the night is drawing closer, but he feels like… if he "woke up" here, then this place is probably… not home? A bad dream? Something else entirely? He doesn't know. He thinks, maybe, if he's going to be sentenced to eternal damnation anyway, it might be better than whatever the fuck is going on here, anyway.

He doesn't stay by the campfire for very long. As much as he appreciates the calm and innocence of it, being around so many strangers with his thoughts swirling like they are, he just wants to be alone. He wants to stay close enough by to listen to the music, though, wherever it is coming from. So, he'll find the safest route to the nearby river and sit along the bank with his feet shoved into the water. Is there anything more calming than the sound of water mixed with the distant sound of music, after all? ]