S E I J I
He doesn't back away as she leans closer, though a part of him wants to. A part of him also wants to know what she might say so conspiratorially near. There is a bit of danger to her, but with it the things which ride the coattails of danger: knowledge, confidence. Seiji listens intently, focused on the warm breath of her words. Falling ever since. Something poetic about that. Seiji is surprised to find himself wondering if he believes it. Multiple worlds? Does that mean — he may be in a different world altogether than the one in which he was born? He tries this thought on, but he finds it rings false. An expression of mirth crosses his features, and he nods, still watching her askance. The intensity of her gaze. The way her lips curl around her teeth... Something there strikes him as odd, but he doesn't immediately place what it is.
"How long ago?" he asks, content to keep the conversation going. A surprising hunger wells up in him. A need to know more even as he doubts the truth of her words. It's as if he's a hound catching at last upon an elusive scent. "When you came here?" he clarifies. A pause, his expression leveling as he considers the implication of the word magic.
His reaction to this is less severe. Either because he doesn't believe her, or because he does — he does naturally — and now he wonders what kind of magic she means. Something like gods? Little spirits? Something else? He lifts his head, measuring. "You have magic?"
He doesn't back away as she leans closer, though a part of him wants to. A part of him also wants to know what she might say so conspiratorially near. There is a bit of danger to her, but with it the things which ride the coattails of danger: knowledge, confidence. Seiji listens intently, focused on the warm breath of her words. Falling ever since. Something poetic about that. Seiji is surprised to find himself wondering if he believes it. Multiple worlds? Does that mean — he may be in a different world altogether than the one in which he was born? He tries this thought on, but he finds it rings false. An expression of mirth crosses his features, and he nods, still watching her askance. The intensity of her gaze. The way her lips curl around her teeth... Something there strikes him as odd, but he doesn't immediately place what it is.
"How long ago?" he asks, content to keep the conversation going. A surprising hunger wells up in him. A need to know more even as he doubts the truth of her words. It's as if he's a hound catching at last upon an elusive scent. "When you came here?" he clarifies. A pause, his expression leveling as he considers the implication of the word magic.
His reaction to this is less severe. Either because he doesn't believe her, or because he does — he does naturally — and now he wonders what kind of magic she means. Something like gods? Little spirits? Something else? He lifts his head, measuring. "You have magic?"
The rain is full
of ghosts tonight
of ghosts tonight
