#dienju

squints and awkwardly stares right back, head tilted and brows furrowed. " is something on my face ? " as silence stretches, she wrings hands together.

asa is not one for social interactions when little words are spoken.

Even in the direct aftermath of the fight, debris and devil viscera clinging to everything like glue, he somehow still found a way to catch her off guard. Seconds ago, she'd been lowering her rapier and resisting the urge to collapse once the excitement (and adrenaline) began to die down.... but now Maelle had whipped her gaze around to stare at him in surprise. Awkwardness tensed her movements, her instinctive response being to just send him a half-hearted shrug.

( Receiving compliments were never her strong suit, always leaving her feeling like a fraud, more or less. And it didn't help how Denji had declared it with such genuine.... enthusiasm. )

' ... Whaa ?! Patrick ... ? '

Mitsuri's face scrunches up , head tilting to offer an incredibly confused stare .

yes and no. over the eons she has learned mostly against her own will , while knowledge is convenient for her it's not something she feels is of the utmost importance. it's like a side to a meal , optional and can be eaten with or without the main dish.

𝗵𝗲’𝘀 𝗲𝘅𝗵𝗮𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱. it’s the kind of exhaustion that’s bone - deep, and deeper still. last night was sleepless, spent flat on his back with his face locked on the ceiling, which seemed to recede further and further away into the dark the longer he stayed shock - still and mesmerized by the flat surface. his corpse is buried far beneath the earth. no light can reach aki, not even when the first snatches of it started to slip between the blinds, painting the far wall in uneasy white stripes. he is beyond saving. a pain throbs behind his right eye still. it leaves the words on the page in a big black smear; he’s not even sure why he’s trying. habit, maybe.

     WHAT  HE  WANTS,  WHAT  YOU  WANT,  WHAT  YOU  CAN  HAVE,      and what you cannot rings inside your head.    it's a twisted feeling,  coiling in her gut   &   making this feeling of discomfort intensify as she grips her arm tightly.    (  too   TIGHT,   like snapping your own arm off,  like hoping that it will fall off your body until it feels numb.  )     the look on his face is oddly familiar,  the sort of expression that makes it    OBVIOUS    what it is that remains unspoken.    wound in place,  her throat too tight,  she figures it might be best for it to stay this way.

she's too dangerous.    she does not want to risk any more of him.    losing this part of herself over   &   over again.    at least,  asa muses in own    MINDSCAPE,    that it's nice to know that she was wanted.    maybe they belonged——————and maybe,  somewhere out there,  in this shrewd world,  there is a reason why they    STOPPED.    something fundamentally out of reach,  a dying spark. 

(  the kind that makes you itch.  )

"  be quiet.  "    too sharp.   too desperate to shut out    ANYTHING    that could make you feel.   companionship was never meant for you anyway.    she tries not to cry  ;    it'd be awkward.    it would put him in a tight spot,  a moment too serious that they might    NEVER    return to normalcy.    the normalcy that never existed   ———    people only liked to believe that it did.

picking on the skin of lips,  she doesn't dare look.    "  i'll see you tomorrow.  "