#chasesworth

"miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiyoooooooooooooooooo!" a huff, a paw lightly taps at miyo's face, before fika brings up her jetpack to become eye level. "are you worried? you seem worried about something." she stretches her neck forth to sniff, then gently bump her forehead into the other's. "you're going to do great!!"

there's a kind of sadness around valentyna that seeps into the air around her. a tired look, hollow eyed. empty. anything brutal about her had been manufactured, was a play in which valentyna was the unwilling lead actress.

she's not smiling. she's not preforming. the real, uncomfortable side of herself. the cracked shell of a person, scooped out and made into a perfect puppet.

valentyna pauses in front of the sandwiches in the store's display, with whipped cream and fruit in it. "tell me, miss miyo..." she stares, not vacant but longingly. captivated by the shelves of prepackaged foods- with perspectives and unknowable ingredients that would give the chefs at home a heart-attack being in their mere presences. "what goodies should we get for our girl's night? price is no object."

"hey sibling. heeeeeeeeeeeeeey. miyooooooooooo." all 6'4 of aurore drapes over her friend, jingling car keys in front of the other's face like a lure. "do you wanna go for a drive and stay out until one billion o clock and waste time and gas money?"