[there are times for reassuring words and times for silence, to acknowledge how hard it is to voice these things at all. she doesn't push - she meets him where he is, with the way words sometimes feel like swallowing embers, scorching on the way down. you can't say them all - nor would you push to find them. in Hakagemachi, she'd kept herself so busy to avoid the shaking, crushing sensation of trying to sort out the now. running and running and running, but never slowing down. if she kept running, she'd not have to look at everything behind.
■■■■■ is dead. she has to be. the her now is her murderer, and that death was never mourned, nor regretted. never was even when Hibiki came into the picture, melded now so tightly that separation is impossible. ■■■■■ is dead. that name, that woman, she'll never be her again.
feathers whisper as they move, as one of her wings extends to lay across his shoulders, the closest thing she can get to an embrace without moving her hands away.]
no subject
■■■■■ is dead. she has to be. the her now is her murderer, and that death was never mourned, nor regretted. never was even when Hibiki came into the picture, melded now so tightly that separation is impossible. ■■■■■ is dead. that name, that woman, she'll never be her again.
feathers whisper as they move, as one of her wings extends to lay across his shoulders, the closest thing she can get to an embrace without moving her hands away.]