█{{✰}}██ “…” Her cue to stop staying there it seemed, coat fluttering about whenever she landed close by; in front to be exact without so much of a difference. A child as some would call her, here of all places and yet she isn’t like the other children that were moving about this place with the way she carried herself. One grew up fast in Hazama and that was one of the more harsher truths of that desolate waste she use to call her home. More importantly, what was hide and seek? She never heard of it as cerulean quizzically settled upon the man draped in red and black like a blood soaked shadow. It reminded her a little too closely of someone than she would have cared to admit there.
It’s a surprise even that she avoided being detected so easily by others, but one man found her far more easily than they would have had she started shooting instead. It wouldn’t help much, with chances of being able to drag too much trouble to her growing further and further with a choice like that being made. Reckless she may be, suicidal she is not when it comes to choosing her battles.
Hopefully he won’t open fire on her for being peaceful, there were too many times for her to recall properly involving the whole being attacked without moving reason. It’s what often made her not want to get caught up in the crossfire of something or other. “… strange.” That’s all that left her, he did seem strange.
Leering down at her, he internally halts. She looks not but a child–but as does Shelke, the girl of nineteen trapped in a body of nine. So small compared to him, and yet when she worked for DeepGround, she had faced him equally in battle. ’…Though perhaps that would have been different had I been using real bullets opposed to tranqs.‘ Leisurely turning to face her, his eyes roam critically over her small form; petite is the running feature, and yet she seems fearless to a man with a gun. ’…She is something not unlike my small Tsviet companion.’ Little words from a little person. How, again, very like his friend. She thinks more than others do, and clearly she dislikes playing games. That would make them a pair, then. Lightly, his finger rubs the smooth metal of a barrel on his weapon, bare pad caressing the black steel of his pride. It is an idle movement, a tic, one he performs without realizing it. Inherently, it displays his over-calculation and his lack of caring in one. But strange, was he? “…That makes two of us, then.”
pugnatori reblogged this from dellafine and added:
dellafine reblogged this from pugnatori and added: