sing a song.

[moonlitmirror]

In the span of breath there was a girl whose hair rivaled dust and eyes that spoke of the core of soft sunsets. Neither, in the end, would suit. She was a thing of quiet nights and empty alleys; leaking pipes and storefront apartments. But still, it remained.

Yin remained.

Even after that night.

So, in the breath taken inward, she sits on the bench in the park, feet trailing dirt and eyes trickling after. It is dusk, gloom and shadow, and still she is out, without orders and without motive--

A choice made. A choice of her own.

Comments

[messier]

Her reaction is noted, memorized for a moment before addressed. There is something he isn't catching, and Hei understands more than most.

She has ways in expressing. It takes a certain form of perception.

"Yes?" he asks.

[moonlitmirror]

It isn't necessary, to continue. To have a want for clarification. But it is Yin's, and hers alone.

"Hei," she repeats, then presses further, in the softest of ways. "What are we?"

To Hei, she would repeat his question, request his own perception in another form.

[messier]

Yin looks for clarification. Hei does not provide an answer so much as a confirmation.

"You decided." Like that night, amid ruin and a crossroads. "You remember."

That she had asked before. That he had given her the choice. That he had answered first in an accusation from another. Another she could have chosen instead.

[moonlitmirror]

She decided. And he had held to it all the same.

Yin's eyes close against the darkening sky. There is an answer given in silence--

There is an answer given in the frailest of words. In the deepest of connections, glossed over in front of a stranger only. Maybe that was why--

She nods, the smallest motion, eyes still closed, and gives a sound of acknowledgment.

[messier]

When she nods, the traces of tension laced within his muscles loosen, and Hei releases a breath held. He smiles in a way another could not label as such. It vanishes before the label can change.

He has a query of his own, now, one tied to the first topic. "Do you need to be anywhere?" he asks.

[moonlitmirror]

Is he asking for her orders, or something else altogether? She was not asked to leave her place in the stand, but there was no one that needed watching. Nothing that needed her self.

The self held.

She moves her head in a motion of negative, eyes opening but looking at nothing.

[messier]

It is something else, and it shows in his expression. It is a quiet request he bears and nothing else. There is nothing else to do, after all. They are at a standstill in terms of necessity.

Hei voices the request a second later, with his eyes slipping upward toward the sky. "Do you want to watch the stars with me?"

[moonlitmirror]

It is something new, this request, for Hei--

Had often moved to watch the stars, to look for something past them, and Yin--

Only longed for a light no longer there. There were things missed, when things changed, and Yin--

Does she want that? To watch things that no longer held the same meaning?

She stands, arms brushing against her skirt.

[messier]

It is new, this request. It is a question he only offers to the rarest exceptions, to watch the night sky with its false stars.

And the reason still remains within himself.

Hei watches as Yin stands. He wonders about the cogs in her mind and then offers her his hand. A choice.

[moonlitmirror]

There is stillness and silence, and there is nothing expected. In the end, it is the simplest of motions that changes that, the most natural of gestures from one made opposite.

Yin goes to walk past Hei, her hand brushing against his as she passes.

[messier]

Yin gives a gesture as good as any, and if Hei is any other, he might chance a smile. Instead, he reaches to grasp her hand as it brushes past and perhaps with more intent than is necessary, the man tugs her toward the path to his apartment.

The reasoning should come as obvious. A formal watch requires a telescope, and Hei is currently empty-handed.

[moonlitmirror]

Yin is pulled along and does nothing to the opposite. She follows, is lead, without a thought otherwise.

This is the first time, she thinks. The first time Hei will show her where he stays. She has known since they were set in this town, but here is when he will choose.

Nakama, she said. Nakama, he had said as well. And he is showing that, in bits and pieces, the further time goes on.

[messier]

This is the first time, he thinks. The first time Yin will be invited into his space as a guest. There is no prior arrangements to consider, no cleaning to attend to. The apartment they arrive at is as empty as the grave.

And it shows, when he opens the front door. Hei peers into the darkness for a beat, before flipping the light switch.

"Wait there," he nods to the single open room.

[moonlitmirror]

If this had been weeks prior, months, or perhaps days, Yin would have done exactly as requested. Moved past the doorway for the door to shut, and stand there, perfectly still.

--Instead she moves inward, quietly shifts to the area used as a kitchen, and touches a well-worn cutting board. The lines are deep, jagged and frayed, and yet all it shows in its remains are a habit, long since perfected. One who cooked for the need and necessity, and would cook from the pleasure of it, given the choice. Her other hand touches the metal of the sink, and it's cool; solid and smooth.

[messier]

The words are less a command as much as a courtesy. Yin could intrude as much as she likes, and Hei would voice no objections. The apartment, as stated, is empty. The items contained within are little more than functional fillers.

Except one. This one he procures from the bedroom fluidly, before slinging the bag over a shoulder. When the man slips back out to the entry way, he finds Yin by the sink, hand touching metal.

"Have you eaten?" is his query, one he forms without conscious thought.

[moonlitmirror]

Her head tilts at the question, without moving her gaze from the metal. She consumes enough to sustain--this has been a function since she was given over to her current purpose. His question is faulty. His question is telling.

She enjoys his question, and it comes as something new. Let it be another in a line of irregularities.

She does not answer in a way clear. "Have you eaten? Hei."