[ of course he refuses to take the bait, digging his heels in until there are grooves marked out on the ground beneath - it's wolfwood.
he should have expected it, maybe, but it's been a long time, he isn't quite used to it anymore, somehow, having those dark glowering eyes fixed on him again, vaguely accusatory as always. with a start, vash realises that all the seasons (ones he'd only read about in books and watched through the small bluetinted screen of the tablets) have run through their courses and it's back to bare branches and bone-chilling winds that gust through between the buildings. pretty soon, it'll start snowing - his second ever.
his smile feels brittle, thinned out and shiny worn, even to him; like a piece of toma saddle left out forgotten on a fence to dry out in the sun too long, but he holds on stubbornly anyway, the chair creaking beneath his weight as he rocks, tipping his ankle until something clicks through the familiar ache of it being pulled too tight. ]
It's called Aldrip. [ better to start bluntly, matching the other's disposition. ] And no, it's not ... at least, I don't think so.
He was here for a little bit, too.
[ the words are meant to be casual, sounds casual enough to his ears as he drops them like pebbles down a well, and vash smiles again - eyes crinkling in a determined, stubborn way. ]
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he should have expected it, maybe, but it's been a long time, he isn't quite used to it anymore, somehow, having those dark glowering eyes fixed on him again, vaguely accusatory as always. with a start, vash realises that all the seasons (ones he'd only read about in books and watched through the small bluetinted screen of the tablets) have run through their courses and it's back to bare branches and bone-chilling winds that gust through between the buildings. pretty soon, it'll start snowing - his second ever.
his smile feels brittle, thinned out and shiny worn, even to him; like a piece of toma saddle left out forgotten on a fence to dry out in the sun too long, but he holds on stubbornly anyway, the chair creaking beneath his weight as he rocks, tipping his ankle until something clicks through the familiar ache of it being pulled too tight. ]
It's called Aldrip. [ better to start bluntly, matching the other's disposition. ] And no, it's not ... at least, I don't think so.
He was here for a little bit, too.
[ the words are meant to be casual, sounds casual enough to his ears as he drops them like pebbles down a well, and vash smiles again - eyes crinkling in a determined, stubborn way. ]