not a thought of ‘ should have never told her ’ ― no, things must be told, some finding themselves of especial importance. such as now. sabitsuki knew.
「do you notice the marks on your neck the torn out pages and the shit we said on them. it was me. don’t be stupid, think about it, you know it was no more air no reason just because i got mad. at you. you probably wouldn’t hang out with your killer or the people you’ve killed but i do it all the time. even before this. it’s nothing weird.」
{ ✘♟✘ }
{ recite the words verbatim, with your ruined brain and parched lips - though you cannot, and all that is is gibberish. voice your thoughts for once, voice them child; you have nothing to fear }
❝ Ach-? ❞
{ still, remain under cover, for you have little idea of reaction as your appendages reach to touch your neck }
[ i am i supposed to believe that? because i think i do. i ]
[ no. you did that? you really did? ]
[ i, what? what do you want me to think about this? ]
[ why did you even tell me, you didn’t have to mention anything. but you did? that scares me more than thinking about? ]
akin to telling the freckled, aquatic girl; painful, and therefore unusual. hatred for such, but she pursues.
「you HAVE do you think death is permanent? because it’s not. especially not here. you go to the trials, like part of the cattle, you know that, right. it’s a basic.」
{ ✘♟✘ }
[ no, i know it isn’t but ]
Picture this; You know what happens, You know it happens, But you don’t think it could happen to you.
Ignorance, in this case, would be better.
[ i didn’t think it would be me, i guess? i? ]
[ what, who, where, when…why. or was it just an accident? did i get myself killed somehow? ]
rusted does not think that is much of an answer; but nevertheless, it is one. she will take anything. ( she’s not hurt, not dead, so she’s not bitching. )
「how do you do nothing for that long.」
{ ✘♟✘ }
Shrug is simple, half-hearted even; almost as if she’s admitting she doesn’t know, and, if anything, she should be. She could be admitting. Or she most certainly might be.
[ you just do, i guess. ]
[ doing nothing doesn’t really take that much effort, and there’s not really a correct way to go about it so, yeah. ]
grateful, truly, for the interaction; another secret for herself, unless interaction provoked so. she writes quickly, in haste, ‘nd such is projected onto the way strokes are made & letters to letters to sentences are formed.
「sick gets worse everyday where did you go?」
{ ✘♟✘ }
[ dunno, nowhere. ]
[ sleeping is more of a something you do, really. ]
Haste is noted; to child it matters not, topic at hand is of more importance mundane as it is. { truth told she doesn’t know where she’s been, the activity is all she can give }
Fool; not as if she cares or anything of that idiotic sort. ( Ah; how the maroon glitters and shines in their psychological sense, much more than that of natural surroundings; rust has not looked upon flower & as such has not been in its valued presence for some time, so gratefulness is high. Shan’t admit now, but there is no rhyme for liars. )
{ ✘♟✘ }
The silent is grateful for unspoken to remain. { anticipation could put entire planets to asteroid ruin, let alone a bug of a girl. she is tiny, insignificant in her wait to rummage for words her neurological system barely allows to travel to appendage. }
Almost does she give a flinch at the sight of blue, dull in its true hex yet ever brightest to own’s eyes. Inner network of neck turns and displays such in the bobbing movements of throat, saliva and mucus slipping and sticking to the unexpected dryness ( and she does recall, in brief brief thought, that it had not been that way so for just a mere collection of shortest seconds ago ). It carries more burden upon her than it perhaps definitely should; she must with force as to swing her pipe to send it into the very rears of her present consciousness.
Only annoyance, frustration, hatred, such common words of description to be chosen for any regular mood of hers, could only be manifested toward herself, and the peculiar fondness for other could only rise in its smoke in her self to give pseudo and temporary banishment, even, to such aforementioned sensations of nothing but negative connotation. Indeed, a flower blooming in only near - desert, and as had been such when she was child: Sabitsuki loves flowers.
True, tulips with snow hues were held as her most favourable, & yet ― the flower before herself was her own favourite here on these islands; no tropical plant to be thief to such spotlight, no hideous other human to bring soothing in unique silence and ink or graphite writings, no matter how much her anger were to flare in any volume.
Sabitsuki looks down at Hana’s hands, an almost gentle expression upon her face, and perceives the paleness for an extended moment before she may respond in still female but still deep voice.
“ Yeah. ”
{ ✘♟✘ }
Pride in excess is a faulty thing- leaving kingdoms to decay and relations to rot, maggots feasting upon the overflow of ruins. However, though knowing this, she’ll allow herself this small bit and hope that it won’t grow into something unmanageable.
Miniscule quirk of the lips set neatly in place, prior feeling fading, scribbles of words set in ink are gouged among the crevices of parchment. [ i wanted to teach you sign language?? if you learn that, we wouldn’t have to use my notebook all the time? ] she pauses before writing the next part, tensing her hands to keep them from flying across the paper.
[ it’ll take a while but we have a lot of time to waste on this island, an i guess i’m sort of an okay teacher. not that good, but ]self deprecation is barely noticeable, slight in tendencies, but doubt is obvious - so much so that it is painful. She almost winces after reading the words over.
Lengthy pause adjourned, paper is relinquished to current viewer - friend.
Flower blooms in her living area; & for most part, rust merely stays silent as she brings limb of index finger to pad in scrolling along phone’s messages due to simple fact of boredom.
Not that she is not to make glances, though; every so often looking over. Every so often, twice, relatively, in a span of a mere few ( three ) minutes. Lips pull and they desire for vocal cord vibration, but there is no complying. Not yet, anyhow.
{ ✘♟✘ }
Vacant is expression of interest, leaving lingering traces of doubt. Question had been reserved for slight tension situated in digestive system, but now aforementioned tautness had risen to scratch at her throat. Although, perhaps girl should press onwards; query was not of harm to the other, was it?
No.
And if she were not to ask, then all courage mustered would be for naught.
Girl gives mutter of unintelligible gibberish she is accustomed to in times of attempts to emit proper noises for responses, but not before poking friend and waving fresh pages of another notebook (one marred by dark blue pen prints, smudged at the edges).
