Seiji sits quietly under the griffin's inquisitive gaze. His head tilts, and for a moment he is content to look at her. He wonders to himself how common such things are, here in Caido. Soon, though, she is looking up at him, a plaintive question in her wide eyes, and smiling, Seiji reaches forward to brush long fingers delicatly across her cheek, as if she is a cat. She is, after all, approaching something feline.
He is still preoccupied with the young griffin when Jigano speaks again, and then Seiji lifts his head and blinks. He takes a moment to digst the information, his fingers pausing, before he straightens up. A wry grin creases his mouth. ...a few of the pies. He has no doubt Jigano's inquisitive blue eyes have seen many things his own have not. Of course, Seiji suspects many people these days will have seen things he has missed.
He makes his way over to a chair near Jigano before he speaks again, casting an inquisitive look at the griffin as he sits. His every movement speaks of stillness, collected poise. He has been so withdrawn, these past few weeks. Seiji feels almost as if Longnight marked him in some invisible, irrevocable way. As if a part of him still sits in the dark. "Before, maybe," he says, meeting Jigano's eyes. "It seems like it happened very quickly. People fighting near the Spire, and then..." he sighs. His hands flutter in a vague, uncertain gesture. Then the barrier was gone.
"I heard there is a forest," he says thoughtfully, "but I have not seen it." He falls silent then, waiting patiently for any forthcoming explanation. And yet there is much Seiji does not say — much weighing on his mind. The echoes of Longnight, the creature underground, Kiada's absence. All coalescing around him, tightening like a noose.
He is still preoccupied with the young griffin when Jigano speaks again, and then Seiji lifts his head and blinks. He takes a moment to digst the information, his fingers pausing, before he straightens up. A wry grin creases his mouth. ...a few of the pies. He has no doubt Jigano's inquisitive blue eyes have seen many things his own have not. Of course, Seiji suspects many people these days will have seen things he has missed.
He makes his way over to a chair near Jigano before he speaks again, casting an inquisitive look at the griffin as he sits. His every movement speaks of stillness, collected poise. He has been so withdrawn, these past few weeks. Seiji feels almost as if Longnight marked him in some invisible, irrevocable way. As if a part of him still sits in the dark. "Before, maybe," he says, meeting Jigano's eyes. "It seems like it happened very quickly. People fighting near the Spire, and then..." he sighs. His hands flutter in a vague, uncertain gesture. Then the barrier was gone.
"I heard there is a forest," he says thoughtfully, "but I have not seen it." He falls silent then, waiting patiently for any forthcoming explanation. And yet there is much Seiji does not say — much weighing on his mind. The echoes of Longnight, the creature underground, Kiada's absence. All coalescing around him, tightening like a noose.
