( with no clarity as to the rather extreme situation she finds herself in, the word 'escape' has not yet crossed her mind. up until now, she held onto the hypothetical of it being a dream. but she knows ayato; no simulacrum of her dreams or otherwise could fool her from the clinging presence of clean water around him, the way others taste or smell specific weather or the wane of light. this is one of a few unique ways ayaka can face this person and know she is not asleep. her hands, briefly having reached out to catch him if he fell before she realized who he was, begin to pull back, just her fingertips brushing his sleeves when she finds herself drawn in. )
Oh!
( soft intonation, easy to miss, easier in fact to miss than to hear. it takes her only a moment's fraction to slip her arms about him in return. when she holds him, she holds him with all of her; not just her arms, not just the quiet lean of her head to his chest where his heart beats most surely, but with her own heart as well, brimming with questions. where are we? how did you get here? it feels as if it has not been as long for me as it has for you...how is that possible? and, again, in a newer, more secret context: are you hurt?
for all that her vision imbues cryo, ayaka herself blooms spring: the small clouds of sakura each a lively flurry of homage and care to the things that matter. in this instance: her family.
they do not often embrace. )
I imagine you will tell me as much as you are able — what is going on, and how it has come to be so.
( her words tiptoe not as on glass but as the thoughtful ripple of a dropped stone. she finds it comforting though: how even here, even all out of sorts and beyond realm of ordinary explanation, her brother is still her brother. and that is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, as good a place to start as any. )
me flying blind thru my ghost tears nods
Oh!
( soft intonation, easy to miss, easier in fact to miss than to hear. it takes her only a moment's fraction to slip her arms about him in return. when she holds him, she holds him with all of her; not just her arms, not just the quiet lean of her head to his chest where his heart beats most surely, but with her own heart as well, brimming with questions. where are we? how did you get here? it feels as if it has not been as long for me as it has for you...how is that possible? and, again, in a newer, more secret context: are you hurt?
for all that her vision imbues cryo, ayaka herself blooms spring: the small clouds of sakura each a lively flurry of homage and care to the things that matter. in this instance: her family.
they do not often embrace. )
I imagine you will tell me as much as you are able — what is going on, and how it has come to be so.
( her words tiptoe not as on glass but as the thoughtful ripple of a dropped stone. she finds it comforting though: how even here, even all out of sorts and beyond realm of ordinary explanation, her brother is still her brother. and that is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, as good a place to start as any. )