she holds him, close, her arms tightening around his stomach as her head buries itself against his chest. if she's not careful, her fingers will dig into his back as she takes a shaky breath (but why is she losing her composure, when he's the one suffering from the guilt, and the self blame? when it isn't his entire fault? when she made it his fault). but she clings, and hangs on, with all the desperation in the world in this small body. though he tells her that this is of his own volition, and that he was never really sure if this were okay.[break][break]

(the guilt eats him alive, devours him the same way it does her; she'll beg him to blame her for what she's done and for the drastic actions she's taken in the past. this wasn't his fault, and she'll tell him time and time again in the silence). [break][break]

'stop apologizing' she wants to say again, heaving a deep breath at the sound of his voice, shaky and hesitant (but he wasn't going to stop; that's just how he is. he's usually so headstrong, usually so sure of himself, firm, assertive and clear minded. it's when he gets like this does she worry, knowing how deep of a rabbit hole he's prone to). and so his apology is met with nothing but the firm hold, instinctively rubbing her face against him to nestle and nuzzle further in the security. [break][break]

his touch was so gentle; was it always this gingerly and cautious, though? was he always so sheepish and careful with her? to some degree, it's endearing. to some degree, it's concerning. to some degree, she's worried about the way he overthinks, and how it's translated to sensitivity. maybe it's both their faults. maybe they're both falling down this rabbit hole and cycle of self blame, and guilt, and it translates into moments like these, where he'll hole himself up and berate himself for thinking too much, and berate himself for having an emotional response to this. [break][break]

"hey, hey.." her body leans back, slightly, only to push her upper body away from him so she has an easier time tilting her head up. her voice, still soft - though softer, as a tone to comfort - laves her lips as she wears a smile. solemn, serene as she pulls a hand away from his back in favour of resting her palm against his cheek, thumb raised up to gently stroke the upper bone. "don't apologize" please, it's really not something to apologize for ".. you know it's not a tiny thing." not to him, and not to her. speaking was always something on thin ice for her, always in fear that he isn't listening. always in fear that she'll never be listened to. fear of saying the wrong thing.[break][break]

it breaks her heart, you know. to see him like this. to know that she's the cause of this. [break][break]

her teeth press together and she lets out a hush as he starts to stammer, and as his tone starts to quiver. it's so rare for him to get like this, outwardly. vulnerability was never his strong suit, was it? not in front of her, not in front of his family, not in front of anyone. "it's okay." she whispers, raising herself to her toes in an attempt to get closer, the other arm raised under his arm, hooking behind and holding onto his shoulder. does she follow up with something else? a void forms itself in her stomach, a never-ending pit of self doubt, fear, and cowardice. [break][break]

.. oh, but that's what brought them to this in the first place. [break][break]

"i just-" deep breath, eun. just speak your mind, like he always wanted you to. like he always pried you to "want you to talk to me about it, even if it's small." [break][break]

how ironic is it, for her to be saying that? truly two sides of the same coin, but she isn't keen on falling into the loop of self blame together. [break][break]

"i just want you to talk to me~.."

Ryan Arcken

☉

ah.. she was panicking, wasn't she?[break][break]

she knows herself best (at least, she think she does) and the way she's holding her hand up to the door, hesitant, desiring to knock makes her recoil. she shouldn't be prying on him when he's going through a tough time (when he's troubling himself over her) he won't let her open the door - that much is clear. crystal. she doesn't bother to turn the knob at his words, and instead lowers her hand, eyes gazed down to the bottom of the wood as she maintains a dual coloured gaze. [break][break]

an apology falls upon deaf ears, and maybe he's realized that when she's thinking deeply to herself. she's burdening him, she thinks, in the back of her mind. indeed, talking to him will result in hurting him more, even though they've already made themselves clear, and even though they've established their relationship. even though he knows - she knows - her heart's always been in the right place; even though she still has trouble saying the words after such a drastic attempt. it's ridiculous, really. funny in the way it's sad. she'd laugh in disbelief had you told her they'd end up with a man holding his sensitivity and a woman finally letting out a restrained voice. [break][break]

they'll talk of a man in grief and guilt, and a woman who watches in silence. it's so sad that it's almost funny, though eun's never had a knack of a story like that. [break][break]

what is he thinking, behind the closed door of his? he was always guarded to a good degree, it always took her a little while to get him to open up (especially when it came to the things that burdened him - especially when it came to the things that bothered him) and this time is no different-- ah, no, that's not right. this time was more difficult, because this time the problem was her, and him, and both of them. so what does she say when they're stuck in their heads, pinning the blame on themselves and never the other? what can she say? what should she say? [break][break]

it's all irrelevant hearing the knob click on the other side, seeing the sheen of the knob shift as it turns, and she's instinctively pulling her hand from the. metal surface and instinctively taking a step back, away as the door opens up a crack. their silence, before he speaks, is filled with the pokemon playing, blissfully unaware (or maybe just giving their trainers the space they needed) in the background. there's a silence shared between them, but it's the pokemon that fill the dead air. she'll have to thank them later - they're the ones who helped her perk up as well, from her daze, watching as the door opened to reveal the familiar sight of a room they shared. [break][break]

he's talking, though the words don't seem to register as quickly, seeing his figure emerge from the slightly opened door. what is he saying? she can barely make out the words that sound like an apology, but she can't wrap her head around why. why is h calling this a moment? why is he apologizing for being sensitive? why is he being so anxious? nervous? why is he being so passive? why is he being so quiet? why? [break][break]

(you know why, eun; and it's because of you. you do this to him so mercilessly in the silence, knowing that your words was the only thing he's ever wanted to hear from you. even now, you're fighting the urge as your fingers want to reach for your phone, or a pen, or anything to avoid talking. even now, your lips quiver - though is it because you can't stand to see him do this to himself, or because you can't stand speaking?)[break][break]

suddenly, somehow, everything becomes irrelevant when she can see the unsure smile on his lips, and when his eyes fail to meet hers. he always did have trouble looking people in the eye as he lied (always had a problem being able to lie, but never one with withholding information). there's an unsure twang that twitches in her heart, and the momentary pain and suppressed cringe is enough to have her move quicker before her lips can, with the bottom of her fist already pushing against the barrier to open it up further. her body moves fluidly, quickly and, most notably, desperately as she thrusts herself into the room, then letting go of the knob in her other hand to reach out, and over, to wrap her arms around a man's stomach, resting her head against his chest. [break][break]

".. no." she says, muffled. her voice quivers as her hold gets stronger "don't apologize." she says, louder, turning her head slightly to the side to rest her cheek against his body ".. i'm sorry for making you overthink." she says again, trying to speak more loudly. it's a bit difficult, with her naturally soft voice. it never did suit her demeanour.

Ryan Arcken

☉

what a lose-lose situation. [break][break]

talking to him will result in regret. staying silent will result in regret. there's nothing she can do that will appease her, especially not when she's dealing with him. it's so difficult, isn't it? trying to strike a balance when she knows that the balance is what's going to hurt them. when she knows that it's the balance that's going to hurt him. so she pauses and she's quiet, keeping her gaze on the wooden door all the while. anxiety begins to creep at her heart again, and it's getting harder to figure out what to do. where does she start? where does she even begin? [break][break]

is it too late to revert to silence? perhaps it is, after she's struggled so hard to talk (breathing is starting to become a gruelling task; was the air always so heavy? was it always so difficult to breathe?). hand on her chest and hart desperately concealed with the sleeve, she takes another deep breath, and somehow it weighs even heavier against her shoulders. no doubt, he's asking himself why she's talking - or rather, why she's talking to him - and honestly, she'd take it back if she could. she can't anymore. [break][break]

though he hides it, pain is clear in his voice. even though he tries to steel himself and even though he's trying, so desperately, to keep her from knowing. he always was a horrible liar, but he was always good at finding ways to conceal his emotions - and frankly, she doesn't like it. not a bit, and yet here she is, entertaining it by not pushing against the door she imagines him leaning against. mixed eyes maintain their gaze, and she's pondering, deeply in thought before she hears his voice once again. [break][break]

and at that she pauses, pressing her lips thinly together. his silence is telling, really. it means he's spending more time alone in the room. alone in his thoughts. alone in his head. he had a habit of doing that (and when it happens she used to fill the silence with her voice, didn't she? but it's different now, when she told herself that she wouldn't talk until she's comfortable, but what's there to say when she's wanted to talk for such a long time, only to convince herself that "now isn't the right time"). her lips dip into a frown, and she's pensive while eyeing the only barrier. [break][break]

he's asking her why, and she has to ask herself. at least he's being honest this time. it's all she could ask for (it's more than she could ask from herself, really). but this time in their silence, she takes a deep breath and moves toward the door, fingers gently caress the knob as she tilts her head downwards. a mixed gaze lowers in thought, and she takes another deep breath. opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it, then closes it, then opens it--[break][break]

then she closes it.[break][break]

"mhm.." she only hums in acknowledgement, and agreement. at what? she's no clue, but it's to acknowledge his words. she intends to stay silent again, and to go back on her words, but it's a bit too late when he's already heard her voice. but maybe it's not too late, and he can pretend that she didn't talk at all. maybe that's for the best. maybe it's what he wants. maybe it's what he needs to be able to compose himself again. maybe she's deluding herself again. [break][break]

"... i can--" try to stifle the sting in her heart "go back," she continues, go back to what? to the living room and wait. the last words are kept to herself, in the back of her mind, as she takes a deep breath and envelops the knob in the rest of her grip, her other hand raising up to lightly tap the back o her finger against the wood ".. can i come in?" she asks, so softly by the door.

Ryan Arcken

☉

a few moments feel like an eternity. [break][break]

what should she say? what could she say? should she even say anything? the way her body hangs before the door after the knocks linger in her air is nerve-wracking; her body is frozen and the regret is clamouring from the soles of her feet, but it's too late to pretend that it never happened. ah, this silence is deafening. this silence was going to be the death of her (never minding that she brought this upon herself; the fact that she won't speak means that she's the one bringing this silence, and the lack of response she hears on the other side of the door confirms it plenty, does it not?). she's hurting him, isn't she? because he heard her speak to herself. hadn't he heard the words that slipped from her tongue and from her lips, he'd be able to hold on for longer. had he not heard her talk, none of this would have happened. [break][break]

had she never talked in the first place, he wouldn't be in this state now. [break][break]

yes, eun. it's your fault. all of this is your fault. you talked to him, became comfortable with him, started enjoying yourself too much and started to get too comfortable with him. putting him through this is cruel, no? to make him sit through this torment, while the two of you still act as friends (when you know your heart will sting and when you know your breath will hitch when someone else mentions it). the question is: does she make it more of her fault by saying something? what should she do when her heavy heart starts racing, and her knees grow weak as her gaze stays fixated on a door she can't see past? ah, this feeling is suffocating. was this anxiety? [break][break]

it's so hard to hear him and it's so hard to see him through the door, and silence befalls them again. she's standing at the door, hands lowered down to her lap as she gently (anxiously) grips one arm in the hand of the other. calm her beating heart; she's starting to panic, and starting to feel light headed for something she can't even see. for someone's reactions she can't even hear; why is she being so anxious right now? because the air demanded her to be? why is she holding herself in such a way that tells her that she's scared? why are eyes of pink and brown narrowing at the crack beneath the door, and just what is she thinking as her fingers tremble, and as her lips part, then close, then part and close and part and close and part--[break][break]

then close, hearing a very faint murmur on the other side of the door. don't do it she hears once, twice, maybe three times if her ears are sensitive enough. her beating heart stops for a moment, cold as she stands at the door, knowing what she's done - knowing what she's done to him. ah, this was getting to be a bit too much, wasn't it? when only a word from her is enough to get this big of a reaction (part of her has known, though she's only wished to avoid it for as long as she could). she'll take that, however, as a hint. don't do it, she tells herself in her head. don't say his name, don't call for him, don't say it. don't do it. don't hurt him any more. don't do it, eun. [break][break]

.. but what if she regrets it? [break][break]

don't do it, but her heart will ache as she stares at the door. don't do it, but she'll regret not saying a word. don't do it, she'll tell herself, as she backs from the door and rests her back against the wall in the hallway, just across from the room. ah, her heart is pounding. it needs to shut up.[break][break]

"i.." her voice is low, in a whisper. she can barely cough up the words, never mind a sentence. so she frantically pulls out her phone, and wants to type, but her hands are shaking and the screen is becoming hazy, and fuzzy, and it's becoming hard to see as her face flushes and a drop runs down her cheek. ah.. it's frustration and guilt catching up, isn't it? when she wants to say something and when she knows that saying something will make him feel worse. when she knows she'll feel worse for making him feel worse. when she knows that she's the problem. [break][break]

eun trie to wipe the drops from her phone screen with the hem of her shirt, but her hands are so shaky, she fears she'll drop her phone. this isn't going to work, she thinks, and she lets out a forced chuckle, stifling back brief tears of frustration. "are.." she starts, unsure of her words. thinking too much on her words. not knowing how to speak. "you.. okay?" they're only three words, and yet her nails are digging into the side of her arm "are.. you okay?" repeat it, louder. [break][break]

"are.. you okay, ry--" and she stops, because she can't do it. [break][break]

ah, she can't do it.

Ryan Arcken

☉

like usual, right? she'll just act like usually. she'll smile, snicker, and poke at him like usual, like she used to before they started talking more. like usual before they started getting closer, before she started getting too comfortable with him and before she started uttering words. before she started hurting him. yes, that's a good idea. go back to when they were enjoying their time together. she couldn't hurt him when she was silent, and bad things only started happening (things only started hurting) after she started casually talking to him. say it, eun. say it to yourself like a broken record, and repeat it in your head until you've committed it to memory. [break][break]

fake it til you make it. [break][break]

he'll hear her voice one day, this she knows. she can only hope that he won't talk about it, or react to it, or even acknowledge it (because she knows that by doing that, he'll be hurting again. she'll be hurting him again, she'll be making him think that he did something wrong, so wrong that she can't talk in front of him anymore (and to be blunt, he did, but to this degree she's on her own, keeping the words to herself, unspoken, even when the words can be read on her expression). [break][break]

pay attention to the screen as the pause symbol pops up, and don't mind the sound of the door that opens up - surely, she tell herself, he doesn't hear her - and wait for him to return with a smile on his face, looking cozy, and they'll sit down together to watch a drama with their bubble tea on the table. then they'll scream or snicker and point at the screen like a pair of idiots trying to shove their hands into each others faces. it'll be business as usual. it'll be as it always is. [break][break]

... it was supposed to be as it always is. [break][break]

that is until she hears the ever faint closing of the door a second time, and the beating of her heart drops, momentarily. it skips, and suddenly her chest weighs a thousand pounds. suddenly, it's become so much more difficult to breathe. suddenly, she's absentmindedly gripping on the remote, and something feels like it's wrapping its tendrils around her lungs, squeezing and coiling (was it always so hard to breathe?). in that moment, the pokemon stop to stare at the woman who gets up from the couch, quickly waling down the hallway. [break][break]

there was.. no way, right? there was no way he would hear her voice - not when she was so quiet. he couldn't have heard her speak when her voice was muffled by the walls and by the television. he shouldn't have heard her. he couldn't have heard her. god, please, make sure that he didn't hear her. there's so much she wants to say if she knows he heard him, she'll be closer, walking, inching closer to the cliff that will make her fall. fall into the temptation to talk more, hurt him more, she can't hurt him anymore. [break][break]

her footsteps stop at the door, and she parts her lips, wanting to talk. she's so close to talking. "ry--" she can bring herself to say, but it's so quiet. god, she wants to say his name. she wants to say it. why can't she just fucking say it?[break][break]

she wants to say it. [break][break]

but instead she takes a deep breath, choking on her own hesitation, and raises her hand to gently knock on the door. she won't say it - she can't say it, lest she shivers, and trembles - the regret was already weighing heavily enough.

Ryan Arcken

☉

mutual stubbornness was going to be the death of the both of them, and she's unsure if she wants this to be the hill they die, hand in unlovable hand on. by the time he has turned his attention back from the drawing, her lips have returned to being sealed, and the moment of weakness [break][break]

(where she was close to uttering a sound) was no more. maybe things would be going differently if she spoke. maybe she wouldn't be hurting him so, if she finally said something (but every time she wants to, eun has convinced herself that speaking will only hurt him. the words she speak are knives, after all. sometimes they don't cut immediately, but their blade will remain forever sharp, and will pierce through a heart in some future when she least expects it). again, eun, delude yourself into thinking that it's better to say nothing. [break][break]

let the silence convey the love he'll never confirm.[break][break]

because you're doing it for him? please. she knows she's doing it for herself. even when she knows the robotic voice might hurt him more than it will put him at ease, she does it anyways in the slim chance that it won't carve in yet another mark around the wound. he's recovering as quickly as he's cringing, but it's a bandaid fix that he can't hide - not when the blood starts seeping through. not when he's so desperate to reach for new cloth to cover the previously soaked. [break][break]

were it not for the whiteboard, he'd see her smile dip. were it not for how he's turned to the counter, letting out a soft laugh of disbelief, he'd be able to see the pensive, thoughtful, guilty expression to her face as she ponders. then parts her lips. then closes them again. a deep breath, and the flimsy resolve has returned. the flimsy, faux resolve that's gotten her this far.[break][break]

deep breath, eun. [break][break]

and smile again, and snicker again. smile and chuckle (the only vocal sound he'll probably get tonight) as you usually do, and play the part of ignorance until the pain has been laughed away. it'll do both of them good, she thinks. there's love in her silence when she gazes up at his profile, when she fixates her eyes on him in a way he probably has noticed (but insisted in his head not to think deeply on. insisted against on acting on. insisted that wasn't directed to him, and he'd no right to return it). [break][break]

so she types in her phone again, with the robotic voice to say "have f-you-you-you-you-you-you-you-en squiggly line" translating to 'have fuuuuuuun~'. sadly, the phone didn't translate when it wasn't an actually a word. she's already comfortable in her brown, pink and white onesie (distinctly inspired by a stufful) and she intends to stay that way, turning her attention back to the screen as she clicks through the shows, before coming across the one they were waiting for. [break][break]

... yet in her silence, she whispers to herself (certain he's gone, out of earshot, in his room, her voice is so soft), wondering why she didn't talk. why she can't talk. [break][break]

"why haven't i spoken to him?" the voice is drowned through the walls, muffled by the initial music that plays in the introduction sequence.

Ryan Arcken

☉

he tries so hard to hide it, and her, to ignore it. [break][break]

'why don't you just say something?' she asks herself in her head; 'it's not like you despise him, or resent him, so why torment him so' she asks again, with more of a bite to her own decisions. to any logical thinker, yes, perhaps she is coming off a smidge more petty than she should be. speaking doesn't take much effort, she was able to speak perfectly fine around her pokemon, and she knows that he's heard her voice before (he's heard it numerous times in the past, when she was openly talking and openly laughing around his presence, back when she was enjoying the small, mundane comforts like these til the days where she cried at him to listen to her explanation). [break][break]

selfishness? she should be the one apologizing when she's being so stubborn. when she's the one who wants to open her mouth and talk like she has in the past, when she's the one who wants to speak all the words she's in her mind. she's the one being selfish when she keeps her mouth shut, deluding herself into thinking that 'this is for the greater good', thinking that 'this is better for the both of us' (when it stings her, when it makes her cringe; when she has to start using the pain from her foot to mask the needles pricking at her heart). ah, had the pain transferred? she never noticed the transition. [break][break]

she knows better than any that the silence - though appreciated in some circumstances - has become a third wheel in their """friendship""". nowadays, the whiteboard is always between them and nowadays, her lips are always hidden behind the rim of the border. maybe she wouldn't catch his gaze the first few times with how diligent he is at masking the discomfort and the guilt, but after enough she's realized that the guilt is still with him, even after apologizing. even after forgiving. talking won't solve it, but talking will ease him of his suffering. [break][break]

she knows this. [break][break]

it's faint, but she's on the verge of parting her lips to say something - anything - before he starts to speak again, then she's brought back to her senses. he's being so casual, talking to her like he's having a one-sided conversation. would it be better for her to use a text-to-speech on her phone? that way, it would spare the both of them from the silence as she has to write (even if it may cause slight discomfort as her typing lags behind). to distract herself, she glances at the bags she now know holds take out, then smiles a little more. she's already eager to know what it is, and apparently her snorunt does to, with how she eagerly waddles up to the bags set to try and sniff at the components inside. [break][break]

her silence is only broken when ryan points at the little figure in the corner of the whiteboard, and she tilts it back to her to remind herself exactly what she drew. at, yes, the pikachu. another turn, a scribble, and all he'll see is an arrow pointing, written in big, red letters 'PIKACHU ==>' pointing at the little gremlin. her eyes squint as she smiles (at his bewilderment, and at his expense) then pulling out her phone to type out a message, and letting goomy translate speak out her message of: "what? you don't like the pikachu? question mark question mark" the robot speaks.

Ryan Arcken

☉

how dare. [break][break]

how dare he relish in her suffering. ... revel in her suffering? potayto, potatoe. he'd doubtlessly smother his hand in her face could he read her thoughts, and thankfully, he cannot. she narrows her eyes, giving a man a closer to deadpanned stare (that's trying to stifle in the pain, mind you. she's suffering and he knows that she's suffering, but this is a matter of pride she's trying to hold up). [break][break]

after she's sure he's read the note, she lowers the whiteboard and pulls the eraser over, clearing the dry-erase marker from the surface. this, she's found, is much more efficient than paper, and much easier to read than her phone. sure, she could just use her phone to text him when she wants to say something, but that would involve him having to pull his phone out, and using it, right? besides, it's not very healthy for the eyes to always stare at a screen all the time (she's better than that. better than nano over here). [break][break]

eun blows her tongue between her lips, followed by as groan as she begins to scribble again on the board. her hand releases her foot, which she - carefully - placed onto the ground. once again, she turns the board to face him, whilst her eyes turn to the plastic cup so nicely set before her. 'yeah,' it starts, holding the remote with her now free hand 'there's literally.. nothing to watch, so i guess we can continue watching business proposal' which she won't complain about, actually. it was a good drama, and it was a good choice, since they weren't able to binge it too much. [break][break]

she glances at the purple drink, with its familiar tapioca sitting at the bottom. with a smile to her lips, she takes the straw and breaks it free from its shackles (hah, take that, plastic) and pokes the pointed side through the top of the cup. she takes a sip until she gets a ball of tapioca in her mouth, then she turns back to the whiteboard to erase, and scribble, then show. [break][break]

'do you need help there? if you bought things to cook with, i can help you out too' she's written, with the image of.. what looked to be a little pikachu, peeking in the corner of the board like a gremlin.

Ryan Arcken

☉

nope. nope, nooooope, nope-- oh, ew, no. gross. [break][break]

"nope, nope, aaaand nope" says a woman lounging on a couch, her back against the seat with her legs resting upon the backrest. her hand hangs upside down off the edge, locks of pink and brown curling slightly against the floor. mixed eyes stay glaring at the screen as she maintains her hand on the remote. flickers of show covers pass by her, though none of them break her from the monotonous hell that is: not being able to find something to watch. truly, the bane of her existence. someone end her misery.[break][break]

there has to be something i can put on, she thinks. the woman hums as she crosses her legs, but it just proves fruitless. damn, nothing good to watch, then. the plan was to maybe start on something new, just so that they had something they could binge through tonight, but it looks like plan b will have to be put into motion. plan b, being just pull up one of the other series they paused on and binge watching that through. speaking of.. how much longer was it going to take for him to get here? she glances to the clock, and it's getting pretty late. she should be able to expect him s--[break][break]

"Eun…!" ryan calls out down the hall, but it sparks a sudden jolt from eun as she nearly jumps (or tries to) on the couch, prompting her to suddenly roll over and hastily move to sit up. unfortunately, she ended up hitting her leg against the arm rest of the couch, and it results in her squinting and hissing softly, one hand holding the toe she ungracefully, probably stubbed, while the other reaches to the whiteboard next to her to start writing. [break][break]

when he comes into view, both eevee and zorua who were by her side (and watched the trainer suffer in her pain, thanks) perk up, and all four critters scamper over to ryan with soft yips of excitement at the mention of food. the woman's still silently wincing while holding the whiteboard with a hand that read 'not yet, i've been trying to find things we could watch tonight'[break][break]

goddamn, was it really the arm rest she hit her foot on? maybe she hit the edge of the table that was next to it..

Ryan Arcken

☉

y'know, today was supposed to be a good day. it was supposed to be a day where she was able to relax, go out to lilycove with a very good friend (the word friend tastes sour in her mouth, like iron she's desperate to spit out that still clings to her throat like the parasite it is) to do a bit of shopping, a bit of hanging out, and maybe a bit of fooling around at an arcade if they came across it. [break][break]

she's dressed in a one-piece, closer to a jumpsuit that's been stylized to her comfort and satisfaction. as opposed to her good friend over here, the light, somewhat thin cloth is loose around her ankles, with the only indicator of it's different nature with the parting tell of the lower portion being pants. it's held up by the elastic that's slim around her waist, and the top is a slightly baggy, with a high v-neck in dark, navy blue. it'd look denim if not for the loose material. [break][break]

it was supposed to be comfortable, and it was comfortable, until she too felt the rumbling beneath her feet, and her first reaction is to gently cling to the closest thing by her - that being ryan's arm - to try and stabilize herself. her eyes squint to the darkening sky above, as abnormal as it is. when the rumbling comes to a stop, she reaches into her bag to pull out a small whiteboard and a marker. [break][break]

'it looks like it's about to rain', it reads.

Ryan Arcken [break]
mission: surviving space-time

☉