What is a ghost?
Seiji moves ignorant of the eyes on his back. The trees themselves seem to watch him, his progress meandering between the trunks haphazardly. He seems always to be lacing along the eaves, watching the shadows deeper in shift and turn. The leaves whisper above, a thousand voices he will never understand.
And then —
He sees her when she wishes to be seen: a small shape, hummingbird fast, the quick hum of wings. He stops back on his heels, heart beating harder than it needs to. And then he stands, blinking, at the diminutive figure occupying his path.
If he hesitates too long before he returns her greeting, it is no lack of manners. More — a sudden, overwhelming surprise. His eyes trace the shimmering wings with something like wonder, his lips just slightly parted. And then his gaze snaps back to her face, the shocking blue of her eyes. "Hello," he replies, hesitant. Is this one of the folk who call this wood home? He cannot recall the word for them, just now. He recalls something else instead, another word, from a very long time ago.
It tastes of salt and darkness on the back of his tongue.
So he swallows, and his features are kind, betraying only a little of his fear. "I am Seiji," he says, because if he were home, this would be polite. He thinks. "Do you live here?" Is he trespassing? He will leave, if she wills it. He would prefer not to be driven out, but he would also prefer to remain alive, and he can never be sure what in Caido might kill him.
And then —
He sees her when she wishes to be seen: a small shape, hummingbird fast, the quick hum of wings. He stops back on his heels, heart beating harder than it needs to. And then he stands, blinking, at the diminutive figure occupying his path.
If he hesitates too long before he returns her greeting, it is no lack of manners. More — a sudden, overwhelming surprise. His eyes trace the shimmering wings with something like wonder, his lips just slightly parted. And then his gaze snaps back to her face, the shocking blue of her eyes. "Hello," he replies, hesitant. Is this one of the folk who call this wood home? He cannot recall the word for them, just now. He recalls something else instead, another word, from a very long time ago.
It tastes of salt and darkness on the back of his tongue.
So he swallows, and his features are kind, betraying only a little of his fear. "I am Seiji," he says, because if he were home, this would be polite. He thinks. "Do you live here?" Is he trespassing? He will leave, if she wills it. He would prefer not to be driven out, but he would also prefer to remain alive, and he can never be sure what in Caido might kill him.
Something dead that seems to be alive.
Something dead that doesn't know it's dead.
