█{{✰}}██ Older yet not, mentally, she gave off a sense of appearance that she was human only for this small form to house something dangerous. She’s not the type people would remotely bother with if her secret were to be discovered, a monster in human flesh, a murderer, and a girl who was thrust deep into a world of survival being the top priority of every being there. All were out to do what it takes to further their chances and she had to learn fast on how to stay toe to toe with them.
Two of us? That’s fine by her truthfully to be considered strange just as he is, she is very strange after all to this place and it isn’t like she can complain. Strange, quiet, and just… an abnormality to the system exists in the world.
It almost seemed she’s watching him, as if wondering just what to do at this point knowing he may want to have ‘words’ with her in a similar fashion to others. At least, she would have assumed that only to remain calm about it. She can’t go off assumptions, much as she had to wonder what he would do given she isn’t moving to attack. There’s no reason to, perhaps just following? He might disagree to it.
There’s really only one way to find out, she had nothing else to do or nowhere else to go so maybe the choice wouldn’t be all bad yet there’s plenty that may go wrong in a matter of seconds; that she’d at least keep in mind thankfully.
Inspecting her, he mulls over her silence. Is she DeepGround, or some remnant of it? She holds not the appearance of a Tsviet, but that means little in this world. He appears not his age, and so the flesh hides so much on this Planet, where SOLDIERs and Turks are only human in their skins. If dissertation was meant to be simple, WEAPONs could not be bonded with humans and love would toss flowers to the air. The wind blows quietly through the abandoned area, pulling his hair across his face and his cloak away from him. Testament to his trials are clearly visible: his languid, unnaturally thin body shape, with its sharp angles and hidden surprises laced in a neat package within that claw. The faint scent of old gunpowder and pollution scurries away faster than he can shake the air around him. This place is dead, and only flowers grow here in one section of the slums, but that was in Sector Five, and here is nearer to Zero. The city of flora is greatly different than the city of the dead, is it not? This small girl is not what she seems. The breeze blows at too sharp an angle for him to catch her scent, but he suspects that if not riddled with the Calamity, he will find it inhuman altogether. However, she seems not to be hostile, for if she had that disposition, surely she would have raised a weapon before now…instead of that incessant staring. Turning his back to her, he deems her unimportant to his current mission. So long as she stays out of his way, he would make no comment, however Vincent Valentine has a rather large personal bubble. Rolling his shoulder and re-holstering his Dog, he steps forward, away from her. “…Didn’t anyone teach you that it’s rude to stare?”
pugnatori reblogged this from dellafine and added:
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