#apoapsis

the temperature was dropping and the leaves were changing, autumn's presence truly being made known in the light breeze. little orange, pink, and white wildflowers were heavily sprinkled among the overgrown crabgrass, a decent bundle of them resting beside haru as she sat, carefully stringing them together. in front of her was a grave, though who it belonged to she couldn't say, the stone greatly worn away. many other weather-worn stone tablets were poked up through the grassy area; an old cemetery.

it had been eight years since her brother had been killed, and haru couldn't even visit his own grave. remaining out of public eye and removing herself from her old life meant that she could not afford a stop to see him, nor check up on her parents. instead, she had to make do with whatever place she could find to feel connected to him, often whatever cemetery was most removed from the beaten path. she was used to solitude during these moments, just herself, her thoughts, and the sounds of birds chirping in the distance. her automated cat ears swivel however at the sound of an approach.

she doesn't turn to see them at first, dark grey eyes focused on finishing the delicate crown in her hands. as she weaves and knots the final stems she releases a breath, reaching up from her spot in the dirt to hold out her creation to the man, turning her gaze up to him.

The men sit across from each other, cross legged, floating. He knows where the other man's allegiances lie. Talon; the organization responsible for Mondatta's assassination, for numerous terror attacks, for untold amounts of pain and suffering across the globe. He barely takes it into consideration. The man before him is not a monster. No man is.

Sigma, Siebren <3

@apoapsis: "-- I have been meaning to thank you for being so patient with Siebren...! I-- I often try to avoid introducing him to others, as he, ah.... He tends to be relatively unpalatable-- in regards to Talon, at least... But that is also why I am... infinitely grateful that you would choose to be patient with him! You are so kind, Miss Ebony! I generally do not want others to be aware of him for a variety of reasons, but... I, ah... I really feel like I can trust you now, and seeing how polite you are with Siebren just proves it! It feels so good to have that worry off of my chest!" [sigma]

     'It's no problem!' That's what she would say if she were a little more polite and didn't know that Sigma knows better than to believe that crap. Siebren's sheer existence did take her off guard at first, but his personality is what she ( and anyone ) really struggled with. If not for her persistent nature and fondness for Sigma, she would probably have stopped trying some time ago. But she has reasons to want to stick around, to become at least tolerable to Siebren. Whether she has succeeded is unclear, but he doesn't kick her out, hasn't made any attempts on her life, and Sigma seems happy, so all's well.

     She smiles fondly at him, watches him express his gratitude like she would watch a kitten tangle itself in a ball of yarn. A lot of what he says feels embellished to her. There have been plenty of instances where she displayed a careful amount of defiance around Siebren. No matter, it's the thought that counts.

     "You're cute." Something she tells Sigma often, has considered saying to Siebren once but didn't commit to. "He's difficult, mean, too full of himself, and dangerous." She considers leaving a long silence, but doesn't out of mercy for Sigma's nerves. "But he's also smart, easy on the eyes, and he makes you happy. That's enough for me." If barely.

It is a simple fact of life to anyone who knows her that Abby is a Menace. Not in the way that Cole or Lena or Genji are… but a Menace all the same. [ Usually to herself, how-ever unwittingly or not. ]

She had been told, of course, in the vaguest terms that the one [ temporarily ] being held in confinement –– [ it was at least more like a room than a cell with plenty of things to entertain but still so solitary when not being visited by the various doctors and other related professionals as they passed through ] –– had a high potential to be dangerous, and yet… She knows what it’s like to be trapped in a room with only strangers passing through to pry into your condition, to pester you with every question under the sun, to poke and to prod and to test. She had hated it then, and she can’t imagine that anyone would feel any differently about it.

So, she approaches the [ containment ] room that had been constructed specifically for him during this period of time––to be certain his transition to be out with the others could be peacefully done––and walks right up to the not-glass and stops.

“Hello,” she greets with a smile and then hesitates, perhaps the slightest bit fidgety––fingers tapping out a repetitive pattern on the strap of the bag slung over her shoulder––though it isn’t to do with him. At least, not really. It has quite a bit to do with the concept of such a cold introduction to an unknown with not the slightest idea what to say. 

She quickly settles on the truth.

“My name is Abigail––though, Abby is what I prefer, actually––and I was wondering if you might like some company for a little while?” she questions, then suddenly, as though remembering, she brings her bag around in front of her and flips it open, fishing out a device and holding it up for him to see.

"-- Oh! What /is/ that?" he wants some too. :/

“ Have you tried pineapple on pizza? It’s a little sweeter, but just as good! ”

Angela has failed to mention the extremely peculiar texture of baked strawberries but figures this is a learning experience.