||m o o n s t r u c k
milky way
||universe :: game
-x-
The girl - Hikari, his mind reminds him resentfully - walks with half-skipped steps, the hem of her short red dress brushing against her legs, each footfall like transparent bell tolls ringing in his ears. Her white scarf flutters at her pulse as chilling wind. She's a pretty thing, small and thin and delicate, and she looks terribly out-of-place amidst test tubes and binary-decorated screens.
When she glances up, dark eyes glittering, he wishes desperately that she'd been just another pretty face along the streets of Yosuga City.
Her arms are held akimbo, lithe limbs outstretched; no words are spoken as the orange-and-white capsule reaches for vertigo and her enperuto is summoned in a rush of cobalt.
Pressure is pounding in his ears as her shoulders loosen (buttons outlining her collarbone) and her gaze turns doleful (because kids don't know any better than to feel sorry for the likes of him), and Saturn wills it all to be over soon.
-x-
He was always fond of adumbrating.
So he structures his scene with mockingly vague outlines -
and takes a strawberry snapshot of acetone-laced lies, of apathy and mob mentality, of all the terrible things he never should have done, and of all the terrible things he still wants to.
Nothing escapes her except for blinks after exclamation points, and when his spiel is finished, and he's out of breath and wild-eyed, she says nothing, merely folding her hands mechanically (though she cannot hide a flinch of fear when he leans toward her, shouting angrily at her and Akagi and all the blue-tinted people who've crushed him).
When she shivers, mint-painted fingernails digging into her arms as she withdraws into her shell, he wishes desperately that she'd been just another pretty face along the streets of Yosuga City.
She does not try to console him, so when she leaves the Tobari base, fleeing light glimmering along the edges of her name, the perceptible bounce in her step remains intact.
-x-
Gravity reverses itself at the Spear Pillar.
When he looks up (down) he sees her silhouetted against a subspace tear, as a deafening roar of time reverberates off of crumbling marble.
She shrugs away her blonde friend's nervous hands, brushing against that snowy scarf, and walks forward, chin tilted downward (skyward).
He knows that this will be either the end of everything or the beginning of nothing.
Her outline begins to distort as the gaping darkness of the Torn World starts to swallow her up. His limbs are frozen in place, and ice coats his voicebox as helpless vocalizations of agony are torn from his throat. She shudders briefly in the face of the sheer greatness of it all, taking a step forward to spiral down slowly after his doomed leader.
When she looks back at him, lips parted in a soundless semblance of a goodbye, the pressure in the sky brings him to his knees and he wishes desperately that she'd been just another pretty face along the streets of Yosuga City.