[Oh, she realizes dimly, the odd sensation like a knife through the fog that's descended around her thoughts and her senses. Hierophant is here. How did he get here?
She doesn't know where he is, of course. She can't see him move, and doesn't feel him until an unexpected pressure wraps around and around her gloved finger. But she knows the difference between he's here and he's not here, and it's just enough to jolt her back into some semblance of reason, like biting into a raw lemon just to shift her mind onto something other than its tempestuous memories.
She frowns a little, sluggishly. After a minute she thinks to look at her phone, where new text messages are waiting for her. The words all sort of blend together, except one.
Ashamed. That one stands out.]
Hierophant-kun.
[He'll be able to hear her, won't he? Maybe. It's not like she knows how it works, exactly, but — he'd heard her before, when she'd talked to him. Maybe Noriaki Kakyoin has to be there for him to tell; she doesn't know. Still, it's worth a try.
She doesn't feel like herself. Hates that she doesn't. Everything feels like it comes at a delayed reaction, from far away. Surreal. Even her voice comes in short sentences. Bitten-off statements. Just a little at a time, factual and brief.]
The paper is so pretty. But I don't want to tear it. So will you please take it off for me?
no subject
She doesn't know where he is, of course. She can't see him move, and doesn't feel him until an unexpected pressure wraps around and around her gloved finger. But she knows the difference between he's here and he's not here, and it's just enough to jolt her back into some semblance of reason, like biting into a raw lemon just to shift her mind onto something other than its tempestuous memories.
She frowns a little, sluggishly. After a minute she thinks to look at her phone, where new text messages are waiting for her. The words all sort of blend together, except one.
Ashamed. That one stands out.]
Hierophant-kun.
[He'll be able to hear her, won't he? Maybe. It's not like she knows how it works, exactly, but — he'd heard her before, when she'd talked to him. Maybe Noriaki Kakyoin has to be there for him to tell; she doesn't know. Still, it's worth a try.
She doesn't feel like herself. Hates that she doesn't. Everything feels like it comes at a delayed reaction, from far away. Surreal. Even her voice comes in short sentences. Bitten-off statements. Just a little at a time, factual and brief.]
The paper is so pretty. But I don't want to tear it. So will you please take it off for me?