if it doesn't burn a little
She is very thankful when Amalia breaks the silence. It was beginning to grate on her, and if someone else hadn’t done it soon she would have. Yes, she knows this is a solemn affair but the people in the room aren’t dead and they can still make some small talk and get to know one another. Though she gathers she is the only one who doesn’t know everyone else here, which isn’t surprising. That seems to be the case regularly in the Grounds, but of course, they’ve been together longer than she has been freed from captivity in Halo.
”Mhm,” she says, agreeing that is indeed her name. Strange name, she knows. ”Halo, born and bred.” Weaver grins slightly, as if stating where she is from explains a lot. And honestly, it probably does explain quite a lot. She was very much made of the place that had created and groomed her, though she had a warmer personality than the tundra. ”How about you?” she asks Amalia, and then turns to include Seiji in the question. ”And you, Seiji?”
She had never actually meant to ignore him when he’d first come in, but she’d been distracted and excited by her new skills and the cookie-thieving Deimos. Besides, Weaver was not the sort that required pleasantries. Even if she did not say a word to him now, she’d greet him as an old friend should they cross paths again. This was simply her way.
The base of her lantern comes out well enough, looking very much like every other year she has made it. At Amalia’s suggestion, Weaver gets up and collects some of the more neutral toned tissue, thinking of her brother’s power over the earth, and grabbing a bit of blue and green to add some detail. Using the brown to cover most of the lantern first, Weaver then adds a strip of green and blue above. Eventually she grabs some paint to add a few basic decorations, though her painting skills have always proven to be subpar.
When Seiji comment, she looks up and smiles slightly, eyeing the creations. ”Yours as well. Though I admit, some years the lantern comes out better than others. I assume my brother will not judge me for the attempt, regardless.” She is always willing to talk of him, to remember him, to ensure that time does not let her forget him. That would be far worse than his death.
”Mhm,” she says, agreeing that is indeed her name. Strange name, she knows. ”Halo, born and bred.” Weaver grins slightly, as if stating where she is from explains a lot. And honestly, it probably does explain quite a lot. She was very much made of the place that had created and groomed her, though she had a warmer personality than the tundra. ”How about you?” she asks Amalia, and then turns to include Seiji in the question. ”And you, Seiji?”
She had never actually meant to ignore him when he’d first come in, but she’d been distracted and excited by her new skills and the cookie-thieving Deimos. Besides, Weaver was not the sort that required pleasantries. Even if she did not say a word to him now, she’d greet him as an old friend should they cross paths again. This was simply her way.
The base of her lantern comes out well enough, looking very much like every other year she has made it. At Amalia’s suggestion, Weaver gets up and collects some of the more neutral toned tissue, thinking of her brother’s power over the earth, and grabbing a bit of blue and green to add some detail. Using the brown to cover most of the lantern first, Weaver then adds a strip of green and blue above. Eventually she grabs some paint to add a few basic decorations, though her painting skills have always proven to be subpar.
When Seiji comment, she looks up and smiles slightly, eyeing the creations. ”Yours as well. Though I admit, some years the lantern comes out better than others. I assume my brother will not judge me for the attempt, regardless.” She is always willing to talk of him, to remember him, to ensure that time does not let her forget him. That would be far worse than his death.
-- weaver
then what's the point in playing with fire?
