She is quiet, this woman. But when she does speak, Seiji feels she understands. It was yours. Indeed. His expression is sober, but not sorrowful, as he answers with a shallow nod. He explains no more, though her searching eyes ask delicately for more. She does not push, so he does not offer. Seiji knows this, if he knows nothing else: he loves his home. His home it shall ever be, no matter how long he spends in Caido. He would not do that place the disservice of remembering wrongly. Maybe he will tell her some time in the future, when he can look back on it with clarity.
She is, so far as Seiji can remember, the first person he has met who claims to be native. His brows lift with surprise, lips parting slightly. It should not be so surprising, really. He ought to ask her — a thousand questions. So many things he’s wondered the past few days, so many things he needs to know before darkness falls…
“Most people I have met were not from here,” he explains, his smile embarrassed. “Not the ones I spoke to for a good amount of time, at least. My name is Seiji,” he adds, and gives her the shallowest of little bows. “It is nice to meet you. Do you live near here?”
She is, so far as Seiji can remember, the first person he has met who claims to be native. His brows lift with surprise, lips parting slightly. It should not be so surprising, really. He ought to ask her — a thousand questions. So many things he’s wondered the past few days, so many things he needs to know before darkness falls…
“Most people I have met were not from here,” he explains, his smile embarrassed. “Not the ones I spoke to for a good amount of time, at least. My name is Seiji,” he adds, and gives her the shallowest of little bows. “It is nice to meet you. Do you live near here?”
