Suddenly, her face is alive with curiosity. A little less self-posessed, and Seiji might have stepped back. But he feels safe for now, and calm enough that the glance he gives her betrays only a very mild surprise. He smiles, though sorrow darkens his eyes. “I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “I remember a few pieces of things. The water, sometimes music… But that is all.” He does not tell her the memories taste sweet, filled with color this dismal place lacks. He does not tell her of the longing even those jagged pieces evoke. Regret a needle in his ribs.
Instead, he says, “It is hard to miss a place I don’t know much about. But… I think I was happy.” His gaze falls from her face, then, back to the kind eyes of the luxere, ever curious. Ever wary. He understands it, that expression. Wanting to help but fearful of the danger dripping from every facet of this place.
“Do you miss your home?” he wonders, assuming she is an Outlander like himself. It makes sense, given her question.
Instead, he says, “It is hard to miss a place I don’t know much about. But… I think I was happy.” His gaze falls from her face, then, back to the kind eyes of the luxere, ever curious. Ever wary. He understands it, that expression. Wanting to help but fearful of the danger dripping from every facet of this place.
“Do you miss your home?” he wonders, assuming she is an Outlander like himself. It makes sense, given her question.
