Lavi

[scrapdraught]

this time there are no otome points only deep concern

Comments

[scrapdraught]

[Bro your vibes.]

Hey.

[Camille isn't looking peachy herself. Her arms are folded tight and she looks like she resisted a crying jag, but only by the barest inch. She pulls up beside him, quiet. Looking into the night.]

...Nice tree.

[bookpapers]

[He glances at the tree, and then back at her -- gaze caught on her expression, her posture. Concern creeps on the edges of his expression, and if he's envious at all, then he tucks that away too.]

...I talked to Nona here last week. She cried for Boothill.

[scrapdraught]

[Yeah. Don't know what she expected. Something snappy, an off the cuff brush off?

In a strange way, it makes her like him a little more. People are quick to cover what they feel, especially men. Particularly young men, bodies spitting testosterone so their mouths might spit bravado, all nut taps and locker room bullshit. Lavi wasn't like the hometown golems she grew up with: instead of cussing and callous barbs it was all airy flirtation and fluffy jokes. A different brand of front but a front nonetheless.]

He was the kind of guy most anyone would find endearing. [She grimaces, looking to the tree now herself.] So was she.

[Maybe she missed her shot to figure her out. Still, she'd seen it herself. Kid could light up a room just by standing in the doorframe.]

You were friends, right?

[bookpapers]

[Friends. He turns the word over in his mind, then]

I liked hanging out with her. She seemed pretty strong -- fragile sometimes, but that's normal.

[...]

She reminded me of another friend back home.