[Fuuka hasn't been sleeping well lately, often wondering where her senpai had went off to. She appreciated the presence of another Persona user, but with Shinjiro gone, somehow she felt even more bereft and removed from home than he had before he'd arrived. Or maybe it was simply... something else. Maybe it was just the fact they'd somehow grown so close, and now Shinji was trying to reestablish the distance they once had, if not even put more between them.
The things Shinjiro had said had troubled Fuuka deeply. This talk of things being better if he died, that he had no place here to begin with... people didn't just say those kinds of things, did they? Even others who had come here after death. But Fuuka couldn't know for sure. Wasn't one of those herself and honestly didn't have any idea if any of the people she knew had been one of them. If they had, they hadn't said as such to her.
It makes her think about when she first explained to her senpai about her guilt for not being able to help him when he died. Fuuka still honestly wasn't sure if his dying was simply inconsequential to Shinjiro, or whether it was actually preferred, maybe on some level even planned. That was a truly chilling thought... and indeed, every time she thought of it, little bits of frost would spread out from whatever surface she was contacting, and the air would drop in temperature around her.
He mattered. His life mattered. Whether he lived or died mattered, and it was deeply upsetting to hear him say such things as him preferring that over her getting hurt. Even Fuuka would feel bad, feel ill at ease to say such a thing herself. What she would really prefer is that no one be hurt at all. Not a... trade. One person's suffering wasn't less than another's, and Shinjiro's suffering certainly wasn't less than Fuuka's.
So when she feels his presence, she thinks she might be close to falling asleep and her brain is tricking her into thinking he's here. But the presence feels more definite, more pervasive. After a few moments and feeling its consistency, she sits up, looking over. Finally, she gets up and moves towards the door; a soft, startled noise comes from the little hatchling in the corner.]
Shhhh. It's okay. Go back to sleep.
[The tiny dragon blinks at her, then finally settles back down. She smiles gently, putting on some slippers and closing the door behind her, dressed in a night gown as she makes her way down the stairs. She's not overly excited because somehow she doesn't actually expect for him to be there—
But then, there he is. She freezes on the steps, stunned, like the sight of him almost seems unbelievable. After a few more seconds, she finally resumes walking down, not taking her eyes off of Shinjiro. The surprise lingers in her eyes.]
Senpai...
[She draws up to him slowly. She isn't afraid, although perhaps she ought to be. Perhaps she should be more aware of the fact that Castor still lives within Shinjiro, ready to strike, but no. Fuuka isn't afraid. She's wary of Castor now, perhaps, but she could never truly be afraid of Shinjiro.]
don't listen to her she is good & pure
The things Shinjiro had said had troubled Fuuka deeply. This talk of things being better if he died, that he had no place here to begin with... people didn't just say those kinds of things, did they? Even others who had come here after death. But Fuuka couldn't know for sure. Wasn't one of those herself and honestly didn't have any idea if any of the people she knew had been one of them. If they had, they hadn't said as such to her.
It makes her think about when she first explained to her senpai about her guilt for not being able to help him when he died. Fuuka still honestly wasn't sure if his dying was simply inconsequential to Shinjiro, or whether it was actually preferred, maybe on some level even planned. That was a truly chilling thought... and indeed, every time she thought of it, little bits of frost would spread out from whatever surface she was contacting, and the air would drop in temperature around her.
He mattered. His life mattered. Whether he lived or died mattered, and it was deeply upsetting to hear him say such things as him preferring that over her getting hurt. Even Fuuka would feel bad, feel ill at ease to say such a thing herself. What she would really prefer is that no one be hurt at all. Not a... trade. One person's suffering wasn't less than another's, and Shinjiro's suffering certainly wasn't less than Fuuka's.
So when she feels his presence, she thinks she might be close to falling asleep and her brain is tricking her into thinking he's here. But the presence feels more definite, more pervasive. After a few moments and feeling its consistency, she sits up, looking over. Finally, she gets up and moves towards the door; a soft, startled noise comes from the little hatchling in the corner.]
Shhhh. It's okay. Go back to sleep.
[The tiny dragon blinks at her, then finally settles back down. She smiles gently, putting on some slippers and closing the door behind her, dressed in a night gown as she makes her way down the stairs. She's not overly excited because somehow she doesn't actually expect for him to be there—
But then, there he is. She freezes on the steps, stunned, like the sight of him almost seems unbelievable. After a few more seconds, she finally resumes walking down, not taking her eyes off of Shinjiro. The surprise lingers in her eyes.]
Senpai...
[She draws up to him slowly. She isn't afraid, although perhaps she ought to be. Perhaps she should be more aware of the fact that Castor still lives within Shinjiro, ready to strike, but no. Fuuka isn't afraid. She's wary of Castor now, perhaps, but she could never truly be afraid of Shinjiro.]
You're here.