Oh, yes this was about food… No, Yoriko knew better than to let herself think this was about food. Even Touka noticed how different she was feeling. A certain level of uneasiness was sitting in her chest, and it almost felt as if it was stabbing her heart.
“Oh nothing..”
She said after a moment of long thought. In all honesty she did not know why she suddenly felt so sad, and … alone. But she was here with Touka, she was not alone, why did she feel like so?
A soft sigh left thin lips as she packed her things and stood up. This feeling was bothering her, like not being able to scratch your nose when you need too. She wished Touka would say ‘Yes, I trust you with my life.’ Because Yoriko certainly trusted Touka like that, but she knew her friend would not say that she and supposed that was what was bothering her.
”I, have to go.”
Living amongst the throng hadn’t been the simplest of tasks. Beset on all sides did irises watch warily, cautiously waiting for the obvious slip, the demanding vice to trickle over teeth and sprout from sinew. Humans were so obvious with their feelings, bold and bright like sunlight cauterizing flesh made from shadow’s boon – she did not have to think twice about the upset she caused by merely pushing the situation aside; it had been beyond evident.
It’s on immediate cue that she rises to mach her friend’s urgency,
❝ Yokiro, wait. ❞
A plea that fumbles over her tongue, foolishly trite and desperate. She’s too attached, too comfortable, and far too deep within the bounds of humanities’ solace. The reprisal she fears is not from the girl that stands before her. No, though a pang of nauseous note settles in her throat at the thought. She indulges a task most of her kind would consider idiotic – playing with one’s food.
Outstretched, fingers tremble and not bold enough to grab at the sleeve of a mutually designed uniform. Swallowing thickly, she cannot find the means to say what she will – what she knows the other desires to hear. How can she know such a thing when all she’s watched around her is the betrayal on most high? A childhood formed quite neatly from the idea of distrust.
❝ What’s wrong? ❞
besides this farce I’m playing at.