✖ and I will give you a fear that my character has in dealing with yours
she’s just a little bit afraid that dio might trick her like other people have, actually? she knows she shouldn’t be, and she knows that she should trust him more from how he’s been to her but?? it’s just a lingering doubt in the back of her mind that she can’t shake.
the closer you are to her, the more she’ll share with you. but apparently there’s certain levels you have to be at???? i swear, it’s like she has a bond points system. ‘can i ask you about-’ 'no, youre only a level ten friend. get to level fifteen and maybe i'll consider it.’
so this blog is pretty new, and i’ve already reached 170+ as well, i’ve met a bunch of amazing people in my time here that i’d just like to mention and give my thanks to- yeah. these are in no particular order, and they’re just people i could think of from the top of my head. it’s also really short… .. .
Nearing edge of wits end, eyes of mixture stony grey had gazed upon sight of luna rested in ever-most peak of sky. Frail mind, perhaps not yet shattered like a fallen-through window, had dared to think upon the umbra of the celestial body. What kind of holes, cracks, crevices lay within the shroud void of light? Many, or few of?
Or was there simply clarity and soft, blank numbness characteristic of fantasy?
Strangely, the spectre hoped for the former, rather than the latter.
Within the brink of rooftop sitting (or floating, if you were one to prefer the facts), she turns to the one she would appoint as friend if the term were so allowed. Looking, and seeing the familiarity, she would pose a query that may or may not be in need of an answer; the girl didn’t care which were to fall upon lips and pass through subconscious. ❝ …What do you think the dark side of the moon is like? ❞
A quizzical expression is donned upon his features, with but a soft, gentle smile tugging at his lips. Clearly evident, her nervousness was but all to obvious to his eye. though with the effort was noticed as well; greatly appreciated that she would even make an attempt for his sake.
Response to her first statement is but a nod, before he tips his head to pay heed to her next statement— a familiar phrase that he has heard many times again. And there is once again, a smile upon his lips.
❝ Ah, that one? How.. nostalgic. Once again, such things would always vary. For in certain situations, it is but blissful to be ignorant. While in others, it is not. ❞
{ ✘♟✘ }
Perhaps, if one were able to explain her agreement in something other than a subtle, shaky nod characteristic of a quiescent, then they would liken it to the quickened tremor of Debussy’s Passepied. For, her agreement, though an agreement nonetheless, was a tremor characteristic of her hands before will had stilled them. She had a question or two about it, per say.
Concern is the primary emotion that finds its way onto his features, wondering if he had caused her any discomfort.. in any way. If anything, causing her to be uncomfortable was not part of the agenda at all. Her voice still carries the same cheery tone, but her smile had withered away— which was the main reason he had been concerned in the first place.
A smile very much suited her. And he would prefer her to be able to around him. Quietly, he watches her as she seems to be silently contemplating as to how she should respond. Perhaps it was too bold to ask for her name? She did appear timid and frightened in the beginning after—
Her sudden response is enough to jolt him out of his thoughts, the smile ever still present upon his lips. Upon hearing the uttered word, though— it is as though he thinks about it for a moment, before averting his gaze back to her.
❝ It’s.. a pleasure to meet you, Hana. ..Dio. Dio is my name. Your name.. reminds me of an old friend. ❞
{ ✘♟✘ }
An small shifting of the feet would mark her as nervous, would it seem. But, in hollow fact, it was another, similar emotion but nonetheless separate.
Feeling awkward was natural, was it not? For she, a shadow of a girl, was not one who would want to be a reminder of another. Rather, a reminder of stars or simple, strong objects that were so distinct in their materiality, that she could never touch. It made their distance easier, and less of a problem to handle.
People were another matter.
However, she would hide the emotion, opting for another reply and a smile. Though, admittedly, this one was far more fake than others. It reeked of the plastic of mannequins styled too thin and too unrealistic for her tastes, but catered to the world’s fickle expectations.
