[When she opens said door, the only signs something might be out of the ordinary are the slightly rumpled clothes she's wearing (normally neat and tucked in Rukia, even when in 'comfy clothes') and the blank look on her face. Blanketing her features like snow.]
[ But snow is still soft if it's not hit with water, not forced to ice over. He sees her look but his own doesn't change- it's - placid, the early sun still obscure behind winter clouds. ]
My profession, you remember what it used to be? [ not that he ever truly told her anything but 'umbrella maker' but. ]
[ The narration can never be trusted it falls victim to appearances and wishes all-too often ]
'eah. Wasn't entirely truthful before [ but he's quirking a smile, that's a joke, get in on it. ] Had my own shop, where I come from. Created crafts but I also sold rare tea brands to those willing to look for something exotic.
Aah. Tea doesn't please, today? [ a tilt to his head here, much like a bird and he seems so relaxed, there isn't even a hint of tension ] Not every brand comes with a bitter taste.
[ a hand goes out for you, an offer with his fingers fine but resolute ] Tell me what you think about it? I'd set me at ease.
I'm not really... [Sigh and bother. He's persistent, isn't he? Have tea, tell him it's good or not, go back to her Being Fine. Alone. Yes.]
If you insist.
[And she'll open the door, but not take the hand, only remembering at the last second to place the yellow flower she'd still been holding on the dresser next to her door.]
Aah. 'm afraid to say I do. [ and she can't know this just yet but he's talking more than usual, filling in small silences with repetition. The hand she didn't take falls away softly without Shiro looking awkward.
Yellow. The understanding of it vary greatly. Can be both a promise and a thread.
[ and into his room it is. If you had expected anything bare and boring you'll be surprised. It's beginning to take on a slightly clustered look if not messy, statues and fabrics taking up space, curio found in corners and shelves.
[Her eyes drop then, concealing whatever flicker of emotion might have passed through them.]
It... means nothing, I'm sure.
[She steps in and waits for the invitation to sit, properly as you please, covertly taking in the room in. Not surprised, really, at the state of it, since he strikes her as a quietly lavish sort of person, but possibly at the extent of it.]
[ and this, isn't it interesting? They had just spoken about regrets and what their danger was and now, regardless, these thoughts are festering.
But birds shouldn't rest, they have no home in the sense almost every other creature has- the sky, after all, is not something you can fall asleep on. Shiro fills a teacup, holding it in his own hand, then offers it to her ]
A burden, naturally. Words that tighten strings around one's heart.
[ And maybe she thinks 'if he would have waited only a day longer' - but this isn't the spirit of this. Maybe Shiro himself thinks this 'just another day, why-' but that's not how it will happen.
He's so very calm across from her, so - loose in all his movements as if there is nothing to consider apart from this room and the tea and the words. Right now there is no pressure ]
[But that's all that escapes before she ducks her head, embarrassed. Briefly, she clenches the fingers of one hand into a fist alongside her teacup, as if scrunching down some feeling tight enough to stuff back inside where she thinks it belongs.]
[She is entirely the opposite, bound in strings around the heart, around her feelings, borne of propriety and an unwillingness to be hurt again.]
[ and his own hand leaves the table, the cup, and moves to rest on Rukia's- the touch is direct but neither harsh nor controlling, a comfort that isn't sentimental.
Shiro's little finger will hook around her hand but the expression on his face has changed little ]
And what does it make it when someone makes the same mistake more than twice?
[She doesn't know what to do with that touch, the physical contact that's not in the line of duty, not in self-defense of one sort or another. So she lets him, if it makes him feel better. But she doesn't know how to respond, properly.]
...Is it? If I could make them safe... Would it matter if I was still here?
A scar. A lesson too, hopefully. There are those people who are too unsteady. Could be a lack of experience or ignorance. Both of these are easily found, Rukia.
[ and he notices, for Shiro who pays so much attention to people and whose body has been changed so much, that kind of thing is easy to notice. The hand stays -
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[Sigh and bother, it's not that she doesn't like you Shiro, but.]
In that case, what is it?
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Yes?
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My profession, you remember what it used to be? [ not that he ever truly told her anything but 'umbrella maker' but. ]
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[It takes a moment, but yes, that's right.] Umbrella maker.
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'eah. Wasn't entirely truthful before [ but he's quirking a smile, that's a joke, get in on it. ] Had my own shop, where I come from. Created crafts but I also sold rare tea brands to those willing to look for something exotic.
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Tea.
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[ a hand goes out for you, an offer with his fingers fine but resolute ] Tell me what you think about it? I'd set me at ease.
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If you insist.
[And she'll open the door, but not take the hand, only remembering at the last second to place the yellow flower she'd still been holding on the dresser next to her door.]
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He'll lead the way ]
That colour, it's a brave one to chose.
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Is it?
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[ and into his room it is. If you had expected anything bare and boring you'll be surprised. It's beginning to take on a slightly clustered look if not messy, statues and fabrics taking up space, curio found in corners and shelves.
There's a low table too ]
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[Her eyes drop then, concealing whatever flicker of emotion might have passed through them.]
It... means nothing, I'm sure.
[She steps in and waits for the invitation to sit, properly as you please, covertly taking in the room in. Not surprised, really, at the state of it, since he strikes her as a quietly lavish sort of person, but possibly at the extent of it.]
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[ That's a look falling back on her, then the table and Shiro inclines his head. ] Sit, nobody would drink tea while standing around.
[ no comment about the room, no expectation to be either insulted or praised. Shiro settles himself, leaving the spot closest to the door for Rukia ]
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[How can she call it that? Something that eats at her as it does, even when it's not before her. Accusing her. If only I had...]
[Useless. She sits where indicated, contained within herself, hands folding into her lap like resting birds.]
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[ and this, isn't it interesting? They had just spoken about regrets and what their danger was and now, regardless, these thoughts are festering.
But birds shouldn't rest, they have no home in the sense almost every other creature has- the sky, after all, is not something you can fall asleep on. Shiro fills a teacup, holding it in his own hand, then offers it to her ]
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[For one day, maybe. All she will allow herself to indulge in. And then it will get shoved down with everything else.]
[She takes the teacup, murmuring thanks, sipping at the hot tea once before letting it sit to cool a little.]
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[ And maybe she thinks 'if he would have waited only a day longer' - but this isn't the spirit of this. Maybe Shiro himself thinks this 'just another day, why-' but that's not how it will happen.
He's so very calm across from her, so - loose in all his movements as if there is nothing to consider apart from this room and the tea and the words. Right now there is no pressure ]
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[But that's all that escapes before she ducks her head, embarrassed. Briefly, she clenches the fingers of one hand into a fist alongside her teacup, as if scrunching down some feeling tight enough to stuff back inside where she thinks it belongs.]
[She is entirely the opposite, bound in strings around the heart, around her feelings, borne of propriety and an unwillingness to be hurt again.]
It doesn't matter, he's not coming back.
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[ and his own hand leaves the table, the cup, and moves to rest on Rukia's- the touch is direct but neither harsh nor controlling, a comfort that isn't sentimental.
Shiro's little finger will hook around her hand but the expression on his face has changed little ]
You're here, still. 's what makes it matter.
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[She doesn't know what to do with that touch, the physical contact that's not in the line of duty, not in self-defense of one sort or another. So she lets him, if it makes him feel better. But she doesn't know how to respond, properly.]
...Is it? If I could make them safe... Would it matter if I was still here?
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A scar. A lesson too, hopefully. There are those people who are too unsteady. Could be a lack of experience or ignorance. Both of these are easily found, Rukia.
[ and he notices, for Shiro who pays so much attention to people and whose body has been changed so much, that kind of thing is easy to notice. The hand stays -
even with her last words. ]
It matters that you do what you desire.
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[Her answer would have been so much more unkind, so she'll go with his for the moment.]
Not so far that I've seen. Petty actions flung out into the vast black...
[Or something like that. She shakes her head, cutting off that line of thought.]
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[ not that he really knows about ancient shinigami and such. But for someone who doesn't expect to turn 20? For that person this is very accurate.
's fine that way. Good decisions and proprietary, they're not what people consist of.
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[She's much older than she looks, and some days, she feels like it.]
If so, then what? The bad decisions?
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[ that fits, with Shiro being much younger than he acts. ]
Their urges, usually. The things they feel ashamed about.
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That's what makes a Hollow--impulses and urges. Not a human.
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's important to know how far one can go, with these things. Desires are the one honest thing we can rely on.