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]

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."