makin naminé icons more like —
makin naminé icons more like —
"It’d be a pretty boring place if they didn’t! I can’t deal with anything that’s too slow paced. That’s why I usually fall asleep during lectures and tests."
The fact that he sounded so smug about that might have made it seem all the more troubling. Falling asleep during a test doesn’t exactly bode well for one’s future, after all.
"Speaking of which, who are you? I don’t remember seeing your face before. My name’s Loki, by the way. But I’m sure you knew that already, hehe!"
Lectures and tests? She suppose that means he’s still in high school… which isn’t too rare or unusual. "That makes sense."
With a soft smile, the girl tents her hands and nods along as he introduces himself. "What a nice name," she thinks out loud, helpless to some of the pleasantries that follow her.
”Oh, I didn’t, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to?” Brows furrowing, she tilts her head. "My name is Naminé. I don’t come to the city very much, so that might be why we haven’t met."
Great just great, he couldn’t reach the book like this. Maybe if he started climbing it would he reach it? However his thoughts are cut off when he hears a soft voice to his direction, and Tenma glances over to look right at Namine. However what surprises Tenma is that the girl almost looks like a princess straight from the story books and he’s left staring at Namine for a few moments.
Until he gets his act together and ends up laughing weakly at his awkward phase. The boy notices the stool though and he beamed a grin at Namine. Did she come to help him then? Well it was given with the fact that he was short and frankly climbing on the shelves of the library was rude. So he nodded at Namine and scratched his cheek shyly.
"Thank you very much, and.. I’m sorry ahead of time that I was considering climbing the shelves…"
Such an energetic boy, she thinks, lips parting ever-slightly. But why is he apologizing? "Oh, there’s no need to be sorry." After all, she understands more than anyone how frustrating being incapable of reaching something higher up can be! How else would she know just where to locate the step stool? "It happens, really, I understand!"
The library is one place she can always count on to find interesting people. While she shows up to borrow books or draw in the quiet air, there are often so many souls that wander down her path… it’s impossible not to smile and drink it all in. He’s very polite, and she’s not so sure too many others in the city would have thanked her in the first place. Needless to say, she wouldn’t mind. No one owes her any vocal appreciation for doing deeds that she’s happy to do.
”I’m just glad that I got here quickly… Otherwise, you could’ve been hurt, that’s all.” The blonde beams. "Try to be a little more careful, please!"
[ ⊗ ] Would it even be possible for a girl like her to get used to such a city like this? In Kuroha’s vision- not at all. Even he couldn’t. Even more lately- more and more and more and more people were popping up from God knows where, and there was so much noise. Hadn’t it been for work, he was definitely living in Paralia. But, well, now was too late and he had a fixed life in there.
The small smile that appears on her face surprises him- usually people would just frown and try to get away as soon as possible. He could give a bad harsh look, after all- like the one he had just greeted the girl with. For some reason, he does feel at ease though with such reaction, and also feels a bit bad from glaring at her like that. His right hand moves so he’s now scratching the back of his head, and gives a glance to said flowers once she mentioned it, and truly- they were beautiful. He couldn’t say what kind of flowers those were, not being one to know much about them, but definitely wouldn’t mind having some of those back at home.
"… Yeah.", he agrees, stepping to the girl’s side and kneeling, the hand that had been previously on his hair now touching one of the flowers- a yellow one, to be more specific. "I wonder what type of flower they are."
His curiosity alone was more than enough of an invitation for her fondness - as anyone who could see the beauty in flowers was more than enough worth considering. Of course, she didn’t think anyone wasn’t (not at all, one of Naminé’s most redeeming qualities was her lack of disdain for any particular traits), but anyone that enjoyed flowers couldn’t have been very bad.
To see the magnificence in sheer creation took something that not everyone possessed, and if this boy had it, then they couldn’t have been so different. Judging from their separate attires, demeanors, and expressions, though, provides a different story. The girl bends as well to sink to his level, hands on each of her knees before smoothing any creases along the fabric of her dress. "Do you?" It’s a sweet, genuine inquiry, one that seems obvious, but it merely one of her asking for confirmation.
”They’re daffodils.” Some of her favorites, truth be told. After hearing a few stories about how they harsh the winter, she couldn’t help but be partial to them. She might regret it, but the girl blurts out an introduction before she knows it. "My name is Naminé.. It’s nice to meet you!"
The thing about performing live in front of people is that until your performance is done, you can scarcely allow yourself to even register your audience. Doing so could endanger the entire show, and the illusion of confidence the player projected onto them would be destroyed. And that, she had been taught, was one of a new performer’s biggest mistakes. Understandable, yes, but no less incorrect.
Marie wasn’t about to make a beginner’s blunder like that, not after years and years of lessons and practice; only when the last note hummed across her strings and faded into silence did she lower her bow, and look to the crowd she had drawn in. There were always people milling about this park, and public reaction from a city so large meant more to her than could be expressed. A few had even gone and tossed bills into her case already, and she continued to scan the crowd with grateful eyes.
Finally, Marie looked to her side, and for a moment, thought she was looking into a mirror. The young lady she had met eyes with looked so much like her, blonde hair, blue eyes, thin frame—had they been dressed any differently, they could have passed as sisters, twins even. It was almost like another her had been watching herself play. Somehow, that thought made Marie smile, and the violinist gave a small bow in the girl’s direction.
"Thank you, very much!" She glanced back at the girl, still smiling, before turning back and declaring, "I can do requests, if you like. Just name a song, I’m sure I can play it up to eleven!"
Well, not in the literal sense, this wasn’t an electric violin or something, but idioms weren’t anything rare. And an invitation was still an invitation.
Although any artistic talents that Naminé has innately escape her whenever she’s in the presence of an instrument, it’s an extraordinary feeling to stand beside someone who has so much of it. To play and breathe through an object quite like that has to take years of patience and endurance, not to mention passion. Overall, she couldn’t imagine undermining it for the world.
But yes, they do so happen to be eerily similar, and she can only find herself recoiling to that thought with a smile. What a strange coincidence, muses the pale girl amidst several other thoughts. "Thank you,” quick to turn things around, Naminé recognizes her yearning to assure that the musician can hear just how thankful she is. After all, it could have turned into such a stressful day, and so soon, too!
Instead, her nerves feel less irked and her head is less tense. Evidently, the violin has a far more significant effect than one might imagine. Without anticipating the turn of events, she eyes the tool with curiosity and respect - both things that shimmer from afar. Up close, she doesn’t think that holding it properly would be suited for her, much less actually laying a finger on the contraption.
”You’re very talented.” If there’s any time that the artist comes out with unashamed honesty, it’s when compliments are involved.
After a beat, she sighs. "I haven’t heard anything quite like it. I don’t know very many songs for the violin, but I’m sure if I did, you’d do a great job!"
[ ⊗ ] Kairos wasn’t quiet. Never. So he finds it hard to believe he’s really still in the city when he finds this place by accident. He had just been coming back from work, tired as ever, and because of an accident that occurred in the street he usually took to get back home -which at the time he felt like just shooting someone, because damn, it would take even longer to get home-, Kuroha ended up here. It’s nice. Really nice. Suddenly he forgets how tired he is from the long day of work, and thinks, wow, this is definitely his new favorite place of the city. He feels like he can even take off his headphones -so quiet as it is there-, and he won’t have any problems at all with headaches and whatnot.
He notices a small figure hovering over something, and feels curious. It was obviously a woman- if the long hair wasn’t enough to tell him that, the white dress she wore definitely was. He walks over, tries to get a look at what she’s looking, and before being able to say anything or even move, she stumbles against him, and she is so small and looks so apologetic from having hit him that he doesn’t find it in himself to get angry at the girl like the male usually would get.
"Be more careful.", he warns, though, giving her a glare when he thinks he’s getting too soft. Kuroha wasn’t soft.
The inspiration that inspires the colors that currently run along a blank sheet of paper in her mind runs black, and the blonde’s breath is caught in her throat. For a moment, she wonders if getting better accustomed to the cities habits and strange hobbies would be a good idea - but it just seems so difficult. It’s such a massive place with so many different people, and she can hardly make sense of Paralia as it is. Unfortunately, she’ll just have to muster up a way to tolerate the fast pace if she’s going to maintain a steady job and actually keep up with her temporary residence.
Though his words are initially a little softer than she’s expecting, the male’s eyes follow through with whatever his wishes might’ve been. Naminé simply isn’t one to overanalyze, nor does she judge those that she comes in contact with, so she can’t come to terms with any guesses just yet. What she does appreciate (and a tiny smiles proves this much) is that he could be much worse about the ordeal entirely. "I will," comes her small voice in reply, a nod following suit. "I was distracted, that’s all. The flowers— they’re beautiful."
Immediately, she feels bad for the sentence’s worth of rambling, and gulps.
Eren is supposed to be in school.
Should be, could be, would be - isn’t.
He cracks his neck, lets his head list to the side and tries to feel bad, to feel something. But all he hears are the hushed voices of his foster mother and the headmaster, "A good boy, shame about his mother, though," and all he feels is the fire that blooms beneath his skin and threatens to eat him up whole.
It’s impossible to focus on school when he sees the frustration give way to pity in his teachers’ eyes, and knows that no matter how much he pushes and how much he breaks, the adults will just shake their heads and look away.
Shame about his mother, though.
He has a bat in one hand, but no plans to play ball, and a wicked glint in his eyes that turns his grin crooked, cheeky. There is a lurching shuffle to his step - the easy dragging of feet (thump, thump, thump goes the bat as it drags along behind him) that could almost be a swagger.
Eren Jaeger is all bravado and hot air, practically exhaling steam even in the temperate Kairos air. He is a lightning storm, crackling down the sidewalks of a mildly busy street while businessmen on lunchbreak quietly sidestep without pulling their nose from their smartphones and mothers steer their children away by the arm.
He sees them. He always sees them - knows exactly what they see, too. Just another teenage delinquent. Rough kid. Probably from a rough area of town. Rough past, too. Wouldn’t be surprised if his mother was a prostitute his daddy a drunk.
They’d probably guess anything but the truth.
He pulls out a cigarette, illegally obtained from a kid behind the school - a packet for two fivers, and observes the street out of the corner of his eye. Finally, ah, there. He has his mark. He straightens from his affected slouch and moves with purpose.
He bumps shoulders with the person, intentional and jarring though it looks anything but. “Hey! Watch it, asshole!” He fumes, all while his hands sneak around to pocket the stranger’s wallet.
His other hand flexes upon the bat, just in case.
Why it is that she’s on her way for a delivery of some sort, Naminé doesn’t know - but it is a job. Therefore, any orders from the owner of the store she arranges flowers for are mandatory and not debatable. Still, Kairos is almost out of her league— what, with all the traffic and the harsh movements.
She’s not quite surprised when something rams into her shoulder. This is what the city’s all about, after all: the hustle and bustle of people that really aren’t in the mood to deal with anyone around them. It’s precisely why she isn’t suited to spend too much time in the area.
When her eyes fall on a bat, though…
It takes a moment to regain composure. All things considered, she’s never been in this place for specifics. Still, the blonde has an uncanny sense of direction and doesn’t have any issues with street names and can navigate the rest of her way just fine.
The male’s exclamation makes a chill run up her spine, though she doesn’t take it to heart. Really, she should’ve been daydreaming less. "O-oh,” It was so hard to help it when the clouds took such strange forms. She’d studied them for a while, hadn’t she? Their shapes and types and just what kind of weather they might predict…
”I was just…” She’d been about to reach into the pocket of her loose cardigan (which held the address to the place where her delivery is scheduled), but empty space greets the girl’s fingertips as they stretch through cotton fabric.
Did she drop it on her way?
While it wouldn’t be unlikely that this was all a strategy to grab her wallet, the tiny artist tugs her wrist away from the deep pocket and exhales to settle her stomach. It’s no easy feat, trying to think of a way to confront someone on taking their wallet when it’s also possible that they weren’t the culprit in the first place.
She does the best she can. "I don’t think I brought very much with me. But I’m sorry for bumping into you."
the soccer ball had rolled far away, a result of some player’s totally overdone kick, which normally wouldn’t have irked him, but apparently he had been assigned ball boy by some undemocratic ruling. totally unfair, but he went along with it, anyway. catching up to the beaten ball by half jogging, he kicked it back with the same force that knocked it so far in the first place. he took a few seconds to slow down his worked up heart rate before running after it, but in those moments, something had touched against the back of his frame.
❝ huh — ? ❞ turning to face her, sora’s mind briefly fails to continue working, as everything seemed to slow down around him upon catching her gaze. staring at with widening eyes, the first words he blurted out were, ❝ — thank you, ❞ although he didn’t know why. rebounding quickly, embarrassment had immediately flourished, coloring his light skin red and causing a nervous curl of his mouth as a flurry of words to fell from his lips in a waterfall.
❝ ah! i mean — sorry, i don’t know where that came from — but, um — yeah, yeah, its no big deal, really — ahh .. ❞
Her shoulders hike up, but just for a moment as the blonde’s pupils dilate. It’s entirely possible that he could be angry, though it seems unlikely from the tone of his voice. Only, when her stomach lurches, it seems strange to call on some form of deja vu. Coming to the conclusion that she’s overreacting, Naminé eases up (though it’s not the young girl’s strongest suit, and doing so leaves her smile lopsided) to the best of her ability. Thank you? Oh, that only makes things sound all the more familiar…
Either way, it doesn’t make very much sense in the context of their meeting and she chalks it up to her disoriented nature. He doesn’t seem upset, and relief washes over pale features in no time. Per usual, she can’t help but to feel guilty for interrupting whatever it was that he was in the middle of. "Oh, you shouldn’t…" She’d been the one to bump into him, after all. Still, the animated look on his face is awfully contagious, and she wonders if everyone else this boy runs into is so pleasantly dizzied by his presence.
”I didn’t mean to run into you like that— I really should’ve been watching where I was going.” Her eyes soften a tad involuntarily as a smile dances along the curve of pink pouts. "Thank you, though. For understanding, I mean!”
"Ha! The city’s been getting more and more busy by the day! I can’t even remember seeing half of your faces before!
Some of you look like you’d be fun to prank too, hehehe~”
"It does move quickly, doesn’t it?" Even though she’s pulled from her thoughts with a curt tug of words, Naminé doesn’t mind. "I think most people here appreciate that, though…"
For the moment, she’s a little wrapped up.
There’s a small bed of flowers before the girl, and she’s reclining with one leg over the other - eyes trained, lips curling up without her realization. This kind of quiet in the city of Kairos is hard to find, she thinks. Even so, this kind of flora isn’t currently blooming where she lives, so it’s a necessary evil. A moment later, she rises to get a better angle and apparently, the blonde is really focused, because her back presses into a figure from behind and she whirls like a finicky spindle.
"Oh, no— I’m sorry!"