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.
Normally, she wouldn’t be willing to full such an act in - waving to a stranger? no thanks - and it shows in her hesitance to even lift her hand. Still, wave she does (enough to get the other’s attention, she hopes; Hana wouldn’t exactly like to repeat the action).
Before checking for the other’s attention, girl is already reaching for her notebook to write a question - with her hand flying that fast, it’s a wonder how anything she’s writing avoids ending up as little more than indecipherable chicken scratch.
The note, fast enough, is completed, reading a vain; [ you said i looked tired last time we met. do i have bags or circles under my eyes, or something?? because if i do, that’s kinda bad. ]
(the bad mood practically radiates off of this one.)
(don’t come near, she might bite your fingers off.)
Looking off into the distance, she supposed, is a excellent way to spend your time
If you’re some sort of superhero.
Even though you could probably be doing better things with your time, like, she doesn’t know, saving the world, maybe rescuing felines out of trees, or even getting everyone trapped in here out before everyone is dead, anyway.
Or, before more people die. That sounds better, more optimistic.
But yeah, just go ahead, just keep staring into the distance to look cool. It’s really doing everyone a favour.
(something so silly- a drawing, perhaps? caused this?)
She has…never, ever, really seen hair in a red shade before. Not in her life, not in her dreams, certainly not in her nightmares, but… perhaps, in hindsight, she should have expected it here. Really, she should have with all the odd people here, there, most certainly everywhere. Ah, but alas, she hasn’t though it is rather sad she didn’t. She’s prepared herself for murderers, but not for such a simplistic thing like red hair?
Sad indeed.
Girl, apparently unwary of the consequences of doing so, has run closer; peeking at the other’s hair through fingers covering her eyes.
Ah, well, not like someone would kill in broad daylight, or in such a public place.
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).
It’s not everyday the teen comes across a scene apparently so common amidst the inhabitants of this island. Grey hues lock with the body placed against the wall, the setting seemingly perfect to be that of a murder. Skepticism makes an eyebrow raise, if only slightly, since it’s widely known that appearances can be deceiving.
Silently, hands hidden in his pockets, the raven stands still and watches from a safe distance. It’s just a few moments later, when he’s about to give up, that ears catch a hint of a groan, and though that could also mean she’s hurt, it’s enough to set him walking in the other student’s direction. Concern is not his motivation, though; simply put, he’s bad at minding his own business.
He approaches the petite figure with serene pace and a questioning look in his eyes. Upon closer examination he notices the movements of her hands, motions only arousing his curiosity further, if not making the situation all the more peculiar. What an oddball.
“You okay?”
{ ✘♟✘ }
Reading of the lips is immediate
And of course she is okay, fine, average, and any remaining synonyms pertaining to the middle sector of melancholic normality. Sigh, rendered to a husk of a breath, is pushed through lips and accompanied by off-hand nod in slight (eyebrows raised, lips pursed with words still at the back of her mind). Of course, one would expect her to, at this point, finish her alphabet and cease movement in hands, but repetition is comforting to the whisp of a girl.
By this time, she would be staring at him openly pebble-like eyes lazily examining plausible threat. Words heard beforehand had left their mark in mind, remaining at back and nagging at her even as morning routine when sounds did slip out positioned itself upon step four.
Perhaps, if she hadn’t left her (new, thankfully) notebook in her dorm, she would do more than stare attempt to communicate properly, maybe. But, for now, content she would have to be with subconsciously taking note of body language and expressions.
Wake upon noises is subtle, gentle, even. If naught for obvious shift to place herself sitting against the hall’s wall, and cracking open of crusted eyes, it would be presumed girl was still asleep; or, if the onlooker weren’t to see the rise and fall of chest, possibly dead
But even then, the sudden thump and groan would alert them to the possibility of girl not being in state of death.
❝ …dha gha- ❞
Mouth snaps shut with the cloying taste of sleep still dissolving on her tongue. Attempt at speech still rings in ears, embarrassment clouding vision. In righting herself to sitting position, not taking care to assess where she is, girl puts series of basic hand motions in their order in reminder of muteness and utter failure in terms of communication.
Gaze if directed upward only at the sound of footsteps; yet the motions do not stop, merely slow.
Sneaking nature of footsteps could be sinister, and all for naught if someone heard them, if not for the fact that intention behind feet was completely innocuous. Girl merely did not want to wake another with her restlessness.
And what of sudden energy bestowed upon her? The kind that had solidified her desire to move around dangerous halls at late timing? Foggiest hints of coffee of remains in her system, caffeine preventing rest to come upon the small girl; that, and sudden sense of adventure brought by boredom.
