[ He gets halfway through a question that Pyrrha doesn't have an answer for and her body language indicates it, joints tightening as her arms rise up, folding neatly under her breasts.
She nods, because she is. Here, solid, standing. Not an apparition, not some cruel ploy.
Later, when things seem a little less impossibly vast, she may feel mortified, ashamed, repentant - but, here, now, emotions run so thick they seem to swallow up any words she might say, leaving her foundering and silent. Some faint part of her, still teenage, feels profoundly stupid. She had never wanted to be the girl in love who is made skittish by it.
Slowly, she makes herself speak. Her tone is even more desolate and flat than the night of Beacon's dance, up on the balcony. ] Hello, Jaune.
no subject
She nods, because she is. Here, solid, standing. Not an apparition, not some cruel ploy.
Later, when things seem a little less impossibly vast, she may feel mortified, ashamed, repentant - but, here, now, emotions run so thick they seem to swallow up any words she might say, leaving her foundering and silent. Some faint part of her, still teenage, feels profoundly stupid. She had never wanted to be the girl in love who is made skittish by it.
Slowly, she makes herself speak. Her tone is even more desolate and flat than the night of Beacon's dance, up on the balcony. ] Hello, Jaune.