[ The graves that appeared as mysteriously as they vanished, back when the first ferry arrived, seemed to be meant to encourage newcomers to come to grips with their own deaths, their own losses. A whole host of other issues cropped up around it, something that was perhaps done with good intentions with poor execution.
This is the gentler gesture. They're permitted to share their private grief as explicitly or as implicitly as they want. There's the true distinction: choice.
Riku had been helping a forest spirit patch a hole in theirs so that their little craft would float instead of sink, conducting all of that business in almost total silence, except for the occasional trilled whistle. It doesn't mean that's taking all his attention. Riku's always looking around, at both newcomer and forest spirit and old hand alike, marking who is present, their interactions with the spirits, whether they're helping. Hindering.
It's a way of gauging the heartbeat of Beacon, he supposes. Some paint. Some write. Like that one over there, tears standing unshed in her eyes as she writes letters around the edge of her boat.
He drops his eyes, because there's observing and then there's intruding on another's private moment.
Riku approaches. But it's only later, when she kneels by the water, and only because when Riku thinks about it, leaving someone alone doesn't seem like something his friends would have done. Not Kairi, certainly not Sora. ]
...Don't think I've ever seen it this calm.
[ The silver haired stranger is wearing a t-shirt and jeans, there's heavy dirt stains on the knees like he's been doing some serious yard work before he came here. He stands there on the shore, staring out at the mirror of the lake. ]
no subject
This is the gentler gesture. They're permitted to share their private grief as explicitly or as implicitly as they want. There's the true distinction: choice.
Riku had been helping a forest spirit patch a hole in theirs so that their little craft would float instead of sink, conducting all of that business in almost total silence, except for the occasional trilled whistle. It doesn't mean that's taking all his attention. Riku's always looking around, at both newcomer and forest spirit and old hand alike, marking who is present, their interactions with the spirits, whether they're helping. Hindering.
It's a way of gauging the heartbeat of Beacon, he supposes. Some paint. Some write. Like that one over there, tears standing unshed in her eyes as she writes letters around the edge of her boat.
He drops his eyes, because there's observing and then there's intruding on another's private moment.
Riku approaches. But it's only later, when she kneels by the water, and only because when Riku thinks about it, leaving someone alone doesn't seem like something his friends would have done. Not Kairi, certainly not Sora. ]
...Don't think I've ever seen it this calm.
[ The silver haired stranger is wearing a t-shirt and jeans, there's heavy dirt stains on the knees like he's been doing some serious yard work before he came here. He stands there on the shore, staring out at the mirror of the lake. ]