@antinomos : i'll find the silver lining, no matter the price. // amamiya !
A TRAIL OF INK follows the hissing of quill against wood, his inscription still young and not yet given proper shape. He hazards, for a moment, to offer the attention of his gaze, signaling ever-so-quietly that though occupation draws him curled along tabletop, with his friend will always remain his most attentive ear.
His writing offers some backdrop of white noise, brush's friction continuous and unwavering despite the steering of his thought. "That's admirable, Amamiya-kun." he says upon re-drop of eyes. It is not a sentiment he knows many to hold -- to want the good is one thing, but seldom is the strive for it as earnest as the other's words may suggest. Ever-infectious, then, it must be, for even in his place here a few centimeters away, he can feel it unfurling towards him with the push to encourage that line of thought. "If it's of any help to you, I often find that silver linings are as simple to find as they are to miss." He uncurls his fingers in caution from strain, cycling through the motion in counts of three.
"It's like ... many threads entangled into this one complicated ball of yarn. They all have different colours and most of their ends are thick and frayed." The hissing soon returns. "The silver lining is that one young thread. You might think it's harder to find because it's thinner and shorter than the rest, all mangled up between them … It is easy to lose, I think, the more you work by process of elimination. Your awareness shifts to all the thickness and fraying, until the texture you wanted melts into the background and becomes ... hm," he notes he is almost done with his inscription, but pauses regardless to think. "ambiguous...?" Yes, that sounds right.
"But if you approach your search with a targeted goal, Amamiya-kun – I want the thin one. I want the short one. I want the one without all the frays – suddenly it becomes impossible to miss. The minute you dip your fingers into the jumble, you'll feel it somewhere along the edge of your thumb, and that's when you need to pinch it and carefully pull it out." Placing his final touch, he lifts his head up so blues may clear of their snow white drape. "Sometimes ... the price is just that little extra time it takes to remember its shape."
