( Of all the lessons he could fail to enact when the time came, Angela would say that letting go of others is the hardest to accomplish. She has to hope they'll live peacefully and happily, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. That lightness in her has come at the cost of having to cut away so much lest it drag her down, when it was nearly enough to pin her in place.
She is someone who can't afford to stop moving forward, even if she doesn't mind slowing to rest and recuperate along the way. She can't stay still. It hurt every time, severing something from herself to allow her forward movement. Metaphorically, of course. Right now they've come to a standstill to sit on the ground together and he lets her stretch an arm up over his shoulders, side warm against his even as that acidity burns his throat like bile. His voice is rough from it and slender fingers curl over the opposite shoulder joint, swirling gentle circles through his shirt. )
That's certainly me, yes. Cream in my coffee with a penchant for pastries, a fondness for sweaters, people-watching and napping when I can.
( She believes him. Believes the sincerity in his tears and the pinched expression she'd received earlier. If this is some thug's attempt to rob her, then let her be robbed. It's a chance she's more than willing to take and say "shame on me" if it went awry, but she doesn't doubt him for a second. He says she helped people "back there" and she just nods, humming some little note under her breath, before finally asking: )
What's your name, Süässli? And what was this place?
( She's already met someone from Lagunbiru Station before (Shell); it won't seem anything at all like a coincidence if he speaks of it. Or maybe he'll mention the "temple" or the "circle" like miss Konoha— she can't say. )
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She is someone who can't afford to stop moving forward, even if she doesn't mind slowing to rest and recuperate along the way. She can't stay still. It hurt every time, severing something from herself to allow her forward movement. Metaphorically, of course. Right now they've come to a standstill to sit on the ground together and he lets her stretch an arm up over his shoulders, side warm against his even as that acidity burns his throat like bile. His voice is rough from it and slender fingers curl over the opposite shoulder joint, swirling gentle circles through his shirt. )
That's certainly me, yes. Cream in my coffee with a penchant for pastries, a fondness for sweaters, people-watching and napping when I can.
( She believes him. Believes the sincerity in his tears and the pinched expression she'd received earlier. If this is some thug's attempt to rob her, then let her be robbed. It's a chance she's more than willing to take and say "shame on me" if it went awry, but she doesn't doubt him for a second. He says she helped people "back there" and she just nods, humming some little note under her breath, before finally asking: )
What's your name, Süässli? And what was this place?
( She's already met someone from Lagunbiru Station before (Shell); it won't seem anything at all like a coincidence if he speaks of it. Or maybe he'll mention the "temple" or the "circle" like miss Konoha— she can't say. )