Our former comrades say a lot of things. [easy acknowledgment, maybe, of exactly how easily that connection has been cut] I wouldn't call myself a butterfly, but I don't mind close encounters with them.
[There's something mischievous mixed in with that, momentary but bright, because as muddy as all the moments of miasma were some were still too colorful to miss, and forward, forward they go until the scenery itself begins to fade.
It's hard to tell if there had been a line there or a true gap -- something unbridgeable or simply a bridge held up by hand or memories or the facsimile of memories. But as they say: time heals all ills, and they've already both figured out how to stretch their wings even without any room to maneuver.
In this case there's so much spread out before him (a feast? a mirage?) that Subete pauses for just a split second, maybe to think things over, maybe just to face the music and the aroma of sake all melted together. It's a shorter moment than even he thought possible, for all that he's used to decisions (impulses) like these. There are a thousand and one unanswered questions and unfinished thoughts and broken endings, about as many directions where the ground no longer exists underneath his feet, but:]
I intend to find out. [his gaze is sharp and flashing for that fleeting second, softened only slightly by drink, and he folds his hands and leans forward himself] You can't be the only one getting a show, Hikage.
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[There's something mischievous mixed in with that, momentary but bright, because as muddy as all the moments of miasma were some were still too colorful to miss, and forward, forward they go until the scenery itself begins to fade.
It's hard to tell if there had been a line there or a true gap -- something unbridgeable or simply a bridge held up by hand or memories or the facsimile of memories. But as they say: time heals all ills, and they've already both figured out how to stretch their wings even without any room to maneuver.
In this case there's so much spread out before him (a feast? a mirage?) that Subete pauses for just a split second, maybe to think things over, maybe just to face the music and the aroma of sake all melted together. It's a shorter moment than even he thought possible, for all that he's used to decisions (impulses) like these. There are a thousand and one unanswered questions and unfinished thoughts and broken endings, about as many directions where the ground no longer exists underneath his feet, but:]
I intend to find out. [his gaze is sharp and flashing for that fleeting second, softened only slightly by drink, and he folds his hands and leans forward himself] You can't be the only one getting a show, Hikage.