she doesn't mind that he's not telling her; she just minds herself, and maybe she's starting to care and over thinking a bit much. she was being too stubborn-- she knows she was. maybe she was being too sensitive? it's not like any of this was to be taken personally, especially considering that she seemed to.. come out of the blue about it. that would probably do it. ah.. god dammit, perse. [break][break]

her mind is racing at a hundred miles an hour (not a million, which is a bit of an improvement), as she devotes her attention to assembling the telescope. she's listening still, however, just nodding and humming in acknowledgement as she usually does. the night is dark enough for her to hide the slight pout and frown on her lips, dark enough for her to hide the disappointment in her eyes. thank goodness. [break][break]

halfway through assembly, she pauses and perks up momentarily. it's then when she gives him a glance, letting the words sink in, then shrugging as she continues to pull the gadget together. "i can see everything just fine without the telescope" she starts, expanding the main body out to start mounting it onto its stand "... but with it, i can see more than what you could, probably." she adjusts the lens, leaning over to the peek hole.[break][break]

"how much can you even see with your goggles?"

Astor Heroux

☉

skepticism is such a good friend. it's always there, questioning your security, questioning others motives, making sure that you stay safe. sometimes it's a boon, where your gut tells you that something is wrong, and you narrowly avoid a horrible situation. sometimes it's a bane, where it just makes you paranoid for no particular reason. other times it's indigenous, and she's left with a sense of confusion. [break][break]

reading people isn't the same as reading books; they're complex, with layers and quirks and multiple variations of each trait and thought. and even then, after such intense analyzing and reading, she'll find more words between the lines, or maybe a sentence will change, or two, or a page will suddenly go missing. then she realizes that she's no longer reading a book; it's an ever-changing cluster of what is, what could be, and what has been. [break][break]

that's when you can see their faces. it's all the more difficult when she can't see his face, especially when he keeps it hidden beneath the gadgets that he so desperately scrambled to put on. she saw the scars - he knows he can't hide it from her - and so he's trying to push her away from pushing on it too much. under the twilight, their secrets are safe-- ... but even she knows that trying to push and pry will only have the opposite effect. [break][break]

'one day'[break][break]

.. but when is one day? she knows that many people will say that just to brush things off, she knows the excuses (she's used them before; lost track of the "i'm tired"s and "another time"s). but it's the night, and after a long day, she imagines that both of them would rather lay back and enjoy the stars as they usually do. perhaps she's pushed too hard. she should.. try to relax. he says that she'll hear it, one day (and though there's a bit of doubt, what is there to do asides from ease off? but she'll keep it in mind, and she'll seek him out once again. one day). [break][break]

a sigh of defeat escapes her lips, shoulders rising and falling at the sound of his voice. pushing any further wouldn't yield any results, she thinks, and he was more than reluctant to talk about it now. ".. one day, then." she reaffirms, and finally moves away and towards the duffel bag that holds her folded up telescope. just as easily as she brings the topic up, she moves to the bag to unzip and begin assembling the gear. [break][break]

the indifference in her eyes, on her brows and against her lips never falters, although her voice is soft, and only barely recognizable amongst the clinking of assembly. "i'm sorry for pushing" she says, though with her usual, slightly flat tone (and through it, you could hear the slightest hint of a frown of guilt for prying as she does).

Astor Heroux

☉

she thought that saying it will make it easier. it didn't. instead, it made her more anxious, and more self aware, and more upset and made her heart start to hurt as it beat. is her face starting to get red? it probably is, as she's trying to contain herself in the face of confrontation. she's not good at this (she never said that she was) but she wants to learn to confront, to face, and to get out of her own shell. it's just difficult sometimes. it's just frustrating when, in a perfect world, people will become easy books to read. she despises the polarity of her emotions; she hates it when she's stone cold, and an avalanche falls at the slightest scream into the canyon. [break][break]

oh, and she's aware of how nervous she was getting. she knows that he can tell, even under the darkness of the night sky (which conveniently lights just enough, with the moon and starlight illuminating her platinum locks easier). bright, amethyst eyes raise from the ground to try and maintain eye contact - she's trying her best, and she hopes that she's doing this properly as she's trying to regain her composure. if not for herself, then for the very gently, quivering pokeball that was her hatenna in the face of foreign emotion that the trainer rarely feels. [break][break]

the movements of the light upon his mask don't go unnoticed, and she tries to get a read on him - but it's so difficult when his face is covered by a mask that won't accurately account for his emotions, and won't express complex ones. rather than anger, or further anxiety however, her lips curl into a slightly larger frown. her fingers recoil back into the palm of her hand and, though she tries to maintain eye contact, she finds it increasingly difficult to push (even when there's something telling her to push harder, to get it out of him or he'll try to push it away. this place is a getaway from what's around them, but it doesn't need to be a getaway from themselves. she wants to say it). [break][break]

so she takes a deep breath, eyes shut momentarily before returning the gaze back up to him. she feels defeated? maybe a little bit, because there tugs a slight smile as she slowly starts to lower her hand. it's true, she's being nosy. she's rarely ever nosy, and she wonders why she's being so persistent about this when she normally wouldn't utter a word. [break][break]

normally she'd let this go. [break][break]

ah, she knows why she can't this time. it's "because.. you're my friend." the red comes to her cheeks, slightly, and she narrows her eyes to the grass. what's the best way she can word herself? how's the best way she can put it? "i'm concerned because.. i consider you my friend" she says, gaze fixated on his as her hands are held together to her stomach, a defeated smile still ".. should i not be?~"

Astor Heroux

☉

comfort is a sanctuary, and everyone is so desperate to maintain it. so desperate to avoid misery, desperate to avoid pain, or anything that may tug at their heart. anything to avoid the setbacks that might make them face what they wish not to talk about, and hide their fears away in the shadows and creases where the sun cannot reach. but without the sun, there is only darkness, and night, and stars. if he wasn't going to speak on his setbacks, she'll take up the role; let her be a setback he hasn't faced in a while, wearing that mask. [break][break]

still skeptical as always, holding her hand up towards him - towards the mask - and now as her eyes meet the little lights upon his goggles he's just about to wear. still, she quirks a brow, and quirks her lips. she'll never judge someone for their decisions (no matter how her expression may make others think otherwise), but please do not mistaken the lack of judgement as lack of concern, or care, or curiosity. [break][break]

but what should she say, now that she's gotten closer? now that he's started becoming more guarded, and has started trying to brush her concerns away? what should she say now that the anxiety was beginning to catch up to her? now that her heart was starting to pound her hand was starting to shake, how ever slightly? "i--" she's stopping herself, feeling her voice become shaky. deep breaths, persephone. you're okay. just ask him. [break][break]

doubt has started to cloud her judgement, putting her on the verge of stopping and on the verge of letting him go if only for both their comfort and sake, but she's doing this out of concern and - for once - he'd be able to see it. her brows arch down, hr lips are parted, trying to find the words to say. trying to think of the way to encourage him to talk, yet she's at odds herself (because she's making her friend uncomfortable). [break][break]

"there's no one else here." she says, straightening her lips, holding them, pursing them how ever slight. it was only them, the night sky, and their pokemon. you can hide a lie using the beating sun and bright lights as a distraction, but not here. not in the darkness. "and i'm--" she starts, frowning slightly, turning her gaze down to the ground, slightly. [break][break]

".. i'm worried."

Astor Heroux

☉

she's skeptical. [break][break]

... and she cares enough to worry about it, much to her chagrin. it's so convenient for him to be able to hide his lips behind a literal mask, in addition to the metaphorical barrier that is the seemingly casual, outgoing tone. it's so convenient that he can hide his emotions that way, rather than having to go through more of an effort to hide the more complex emotions. she sees a smile on the mask, but she has to wonder: what was he actually feeling beneath those two layers? he was so desperately trying to hide something (it's what the skeptic in her tells her, though she admits that it might make her a bit too stubborn and a little too eager to read between the lines. sometimes she has to remind herself that people aren't books she can pick up. sometimes she has to remind herself that people can't be close read like a cover or a novel).[break][break]

if she has to describe him, she'll attribute him to a book that was dropped after the rain, open booked. the cover may be perfectly unscathed, but the pages have become wet, the ink leaking and writing nearly illegible with the dirt covering it. then, when it dries, the pages become brittle, like the slightest movement will break them, and the crinkled pages can no longer return to their flexible state, forever frozen to be a statue of what they once were. and yet they still persist, holding onto the spine like their life depends on it, with no rhyme or reason, if only to fill the space between a perfectly fine cover. [break][break]

suffice to say that she's known him long enough to have an inkling on his personality - his surface personality - and knows that the pensiveness and quietness is rare. it's him thinking to himself, though what he's thinking about is another question. as the mask is smiling, she give him an unreadable gaze. cold to many people, and maybe a little dismissive to some. it's a piercing gaze without his goggles to block them, yet never quite reaches the level of a glare in the dark night. she grimaces. she doesn't like this lack of development. [break][break]

it leaves a stale taste in her mouth. [break][break]

humming, she turns her attention back to the telescope, eventually moving to peek an eye through the lens, hand on a knob as she adjusts the magnification on the lens. "hmm.." she's watches the stars, pensively, before turning her attention back from the lens and to the stars - and planets - themselves. her gut tells her that it's a big deal, and though she understands why he's trying so hard to push the discomfort away (she understands; she was once like that until she's learned otherwise), but she's at a crossroads as to whether she should respect it. [break][break]

so lifting her head from the telescope, she sighs. "why do you wear the mask" is what she wants to ask, but maybe that's the wrong question (she knows why he wears it; she sees why he's been wearing it) and instead she parts her lips. it's a lie too say her heart weren't beating, and the blood was so gradually rushing to her head in the anxiety that was to come, and the lump in her throat was beginning to form (she's never pried into someone else's life before; is this how you do it?)[break][break]

"you say that" she narrows her eyes, lowering her gaze from the stars unto him, making small steps to approach (to ignore the heavy beats) and raise her hand towards the mask, but sure not to touch it, or get too close "... but it look like it hurt. the scars."

Astor Heroux

☉

well. she certainly didn't expect that violent of a reaction. the sudden jolt up and the nervous laughter, and the way he's so quick to conceal the lower half of his face is enough too alarm anyone; hell, she's the only person at the brunt of his sudden urgency, and seeing him get so jumpy is enough to put her on her nerves. it wasn't something she'd seen before - at least, not from him. the usual, casual demeanour is more something she's used to, so needless to say, she grew.. slightly concerned. thinking about it, though, maybe it does make some sense (she just saw something that she felt like she shouldn't have seen, with the scars across his face being plain for her, though she ponders on her next words, and loathe is she to tell or act a lie). [break][break]

the air leaves her lungs as she lets out a soft, yet deep exhale into the night. her head lifts as her gaze is turned back to the distance, looking not-so-focused at the hills in the distance, at the horizon that separates the land with the heavens. ".. yeah." she responds, softly. coldly. just as she always does - not because of what she sees, or how she feels, but because of how she is, spending her time under the stars more often than people. people don't like coming out in the night, she's found. [break][break]

his sudden anxiety that quickly transitioned into his usual, upbeat demeanour sticks with her, however, and amethyst eyes soon move to gaze at the lights that dance in the shape of what his lips should be portraying. it's a smile, she sees so clearly in the night, and he's so quick to try and shift the conversation to the stars. alright, astor. she'll humour you and your attempt to move away from your face. only after a little bit of pensive thinking. only after she tucks the knowledge in the back of her mind. "yes, the stars are very beautiful tonight," she starts, "the night is very calming itself, too. i hope i didn't startle you too much." [break][break]

persephone lifts herself back up properly, moving to the duffel bag to unzip it, pulling out a stand and a folded in scope to begin setting up in the usual place (she's surprised that there's been no dent in the soil nor the grass, with how often she's come here to plant the telescope in the same area). deep breath, persephone. take in the fresh air and the smell of fresh grass in the night to soothe yourself, and to relieve yourself (of the never ending reminder that you've turned to a life of crime, just so you can appreciate and learn about this night sky for just another day. just another day). [break][break]

... she wants to stay quiet about it. so desperately does she want to pass by and brush it off, but there's a feeling that eats at her (telling her that if she doesn't speak about it now, he won't let her speak about it ever). so after a deep breath, she turns her head to meet his gaze and ask[break][break]

"did i startle you?"[break][break]

she asks, but she knows she wants to ask why do you wear the mask? but maybe she'll be pushing it too much. she's already pushed enough, seeing him without it.

Astor Heroux

☉

there's nothing more calming - and more peaceful - than time away from the city. nothing. to be able to get away from the bustling roads and the bright city lights is a blessing, and one that she welcomes with opened arms. though the sea offered the same respite as her room did (as much respite as it could, as an underwater submarine), it was suffocatingly cramped, and oh, so difficult to find the space to breathe. [break][break]

that, my friend, just isn't her cup of tea. no, the endless expanse of the night sky is much more up her alley. the sheet of twilight that sweeps overhead, with twinkling stars as far as the naked eye could see, and without a cloud in the sky is the perfect sight, especially on a night where the breeze is fresh, carrying the wafting scent of wild flora that bloom in the night. [break][break]

tonight she was to go to the regular spot and set up her telescope - a peaceful area just outside of fortree, yet close enough such that wild pokemon won't attack them - and the blankets stuffed into a backpack. over her shoulder is a duffel bag holding the components of her precious gadget, though maybe the load is a bit too much for a young woman like her to carry. she'll deal with it - even at the expense of her pokemon, whining softly at her to think twice about the heavy load. [break][break]

as she walks, she catches the sight of a bug pokemon laying in the grass, followed by the trainer who.. seemed to be relaxing. though she can't make out the features too much, she already knows (after all, who else is insane enough to come out in the nearing dead hours of the night to stargaze so openly?). maybe he's napping. it would be wise not to wake him up, or startle him.[break][break]

so she opts to walk closer, minding the grass, with the intention to approach and gently shake to rouse him awake. however when she arrives and gets a better look.. ah. [break][break]

narrowing her eyes, the platinum haired woman looms over a man, with locks of white falling over the sides of her face as she crouches, slightly, at his side. her finger gently pokes his arm. "hey." she greets, knees to her chest "did you doze off?"

Astor Heroux

☉

dancing, dancing..[break][break]

this was going to be tricky. when was the last time she went out with a duffel bag over her shoulder, and for once not containing the components of a telescope folded and prepared for a night sky's visit? really, this isn't the way she'd like to go, but a woman is only guilty of being at the mercy of a handful of pokemon. said pokemon are the sole reason she's walking to the studio, mind. a little cleffa cries and a rockruff whimper at the sound of her declining the job is enough to weaken her heart, into a sigh, into a grunt. [break][break]

apprehension surfaces as she quirks her lip, though rarely shows it when her hand presses against the door to let her into the studio building. be polite enough to wave to people who make eye contact with you, be polite enough to give a small smile as you glance at your phone, looking for the place you're supposed to meet with an apparent partner (the poor man or woman will have to deal with a lady who hasn't danced for lord knows how long). [break][break]

she doesn't dare ask for directions, prideful as she is. she would prefer to get this finished with as soon as possible, with as little interaction. [break][break]

studio is easy enough to find, thankfully (it saves her a lot of trouble) so she pushes against the handle of the door, greeted by a few other of the employees who instinctively glance at the door. the platinum haired woman only bows her head, slightly. where was she supposed to go again? [break][break]

"i am here to help with choreography." even though she's not the most confident in her abilities "i was told i'd have a partner..? where are they?"

Ryan Arcken [break]
mission: coordinator choreography

☉