[ She doesn't want to look at the other's face anymore than she's ever wanted to look at her own in the mirror (or be looked upon). And yet, her attention isn't torn away as readily as she might like. The longer she looks — indeed — the other's face isn't nearly so mirror as an image. Older, sharper — maybe. ]
[ It allows her to turn her attention away, seafoam eyes boring a hole into the ground instead. All she's ever had about her appearance is other's point of reference, in the end, but — She can feel Add move in his cage. She doesn't. ]
[ For as much as fleeing would be preferred, she feels rooted. Listening. Uncertain and confused in equal parts. Hesitation and then an answer: ]
... Gray.
[ Finally, some part of her body seems to creek into existence as she moves hands to tug at the hood of her cloak, pulling it further down her face so only half of seafoam hues can be seen. A beat, and she's quiet, as if the question isn't something she's allowed to ask: ]
--What is your name?
[ She thinks — hopes — somehow they are not that hero. ]
no subject
[ It allows her to turn her attention away, seafoam eyes boring a hole into the ground instead. All she's ever had about her appearance is other's point of reference, in the end, but — She can feel Add move in his cage. She doesn't. ]
[ For as much as fleeing would be preferred, she feels rooted. Listening. Uncertain and confused in equal parts. Hesitation and then an answer: ]
... Gray.
[ Finally, some part of her body seems to creek into existence as she moves hands to tug at the hood of her cloak, pulling it further down her face so only half of seafoam hues can be seen. A beat, and she's quiet, as if the question isn't something she's allowed to ask: ]
--What is your name?
[ She thinks — hopes — somehow they are not that hero. ]