[ Yoshiki stops a half-step after Lottie. So do the woods. The silence is almost complete except for the sound of air moving in the leaves, in their lungs, over the fine worn dirt of the trail.
Is that what the wilderness sounds like, when it asks for things? How do you know what it wants?
Yoshiki slips his hand into his pocket. He closes it around the tiny thing he found there when he woke up, and it doesn't feel like anything against his palm. He reaches a little behind him, a little to the side, and catches the edge of Lottie's sleeve with two fingers.
It's not true that the only sound he can hear is the air. He can hear his heart, too, hammering against the blunt heaviness in his hand. ]
...you shouldn't go wantin' things that don't belong to you.
[ He curls his fingers deeper into Lottie's sleeve. It's real and cool under his fingertips, fabric catching at the ridges of his fingerprints.
He's not talking to her anymore. He closes his eyes, focusing on the weight, the coldness of it, the texture that's not quite stone and not quite wood. ]
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Is that what the wilderness sounds like, when it asks for things? How do you know what it wants?
Yoshiki slips his hand into his pocket. He closes it around the tiny thing he found there when he woke up, and it doesn't feel like anything against his palm. He reaches a little behind him, a little to the side, and catches the edge of Lottie's sleeve with two fingers.
It's not true that the only sound he can hear is the air. He can hear his heart, too, hammering against the blunt heaviness in his hand. ]
...you shouldn't go wantin' things that don't belong to you.
[ He curls his fingers deeper into Lottie's sleeve. It's real and cool under his fingertips, fabric catching at the ridges of his fingerprints.
He's not talking to her anymore. He closes his eyes, focusing on the weight, the coldness of it, the texture that's not quite stone and not quite wood. ]
Leave us alone.