[ This, Naminé supposes, must be the past, then. Ferran's closer to her in age than he ever has been before, if they're not in the same year - and if his apparent youth isn't an illusion conjured by his even clearer frailty. Regarding him from her carefully chosen distance, she's unequal parts curious and somber, mouth curled down at the corners from the sight of him injured and on what seems increasingly like a fool's errand.
He's got his reasons, surely. Painful ones, she's even more certain as she watches his face disappear behind a palm - and without intending it, she inches half a step closer. Whether she'd have forgone her caution and continued to move toward his side, she doesn't find out; the next moment she's been seen, and any small momentum she might have had ceases as her head lifts slightly and she grows still.
She does look an awful lot like a trick of the light, motionless as she is. That is, right up until a few beats of staring later when she finally raises one slender arm to press a finger over her lips - a gesture for silence. As that same hand falls away, she tilts her head, considering him as she takes one extra step out into the comparative light, as if that might serve for an admission that she is, in fact, quite present.
Equally without words is the question in her expression, in the searching way she looks him over. Does he know who she is in this particular world of dreams, or is she a stranger? ]
no subject
He's got his reasons, surely. Painful ones, she's even more certain as she watches his face disappear behind a palm - and without intending it, she inches half a step closer. Whether she'd have forgone her caution and continued to move toward his side, she doesn't find out; the next moment she's been seen, and any small momentum she might have had ceases as her head lifts slightly and she grows still.
She does look an awful lot like a trick of the light, motionless as she is. That is, right up until a few beats of staring later when she finally raises one slender arm to press a finger over her lips - a gesture for silence. As that same hand falls away, she tilts her head, considering him as she takes one extra step out into the comparative light, as if that might serve for an admission that she is, in fact, quite present.
Equally without words is the question in her expression, in the searching way she looks him over. Does he know who she is in this particular world of dreams, or is she a stranger? ]