ʟᴇɪsᴜʀᴇ flutter of thick lashes tickles the moonchild’s soft cheeks, fleeting & delicate as the kiss of a monarch butterfly, the only tangible proof that she’s not a doll of porcelain ; for longer than she’s aware of, her prying eyes have loyally & attentively remained settled upon HIM, the breathing enigma that she’s unable to solve, to unravel, to comprehend. Just like the hardest level in one of the games that she adores oh so much, Hana refuses to give up on her quest — A quest that possesses no kind of significance, aside from rewarding her blazing curiosity with puerile satisfaction & delight.