Eleventh Snowfall: sour as unspoken grief
[She stands in the drizzle, drops of water beading the edges of her collar, shining on the rough cotton, dampening it. She's turned the PCD on by accident, perhaps, but surrounded by graves and the dead, she became preoccupied.
She takes a knee in front of one, face out of view where it can't betray any emotion.
[Slim, pale fingers trace the dark, precise lines of kanji in granite, the edges of a name, of someone she knows, someone few others in Adstring would. Surrounding her there are others, people here and people at home. Dead and living still. Some aren't proper stones, just simple, wooden markers, the sort a pauper or a beggar might have--or a child of the Rukongai who died to leave nothing but a name. Renji and Ukitake and other names. Ichigo--nowhere near his sisters. Orihime's, simple and lovely. Shizuku and Homura on simple wooden markers, the kanji on her brother's exuding nobility even like this.
Others, like this one, are as simple as they are stately. Shiba Kaien, reduced to nothing more than lines on a stone and whatever she is seeing for herself.
She let's out a shaky breath.]
Sorry. To everyone.
[And then she turns, lifting the PCD, shaking the hair out of her eyes, her face in a still mask, not betraying how sad she is, how hard this is on a day like today.]
If anyone needs me, I will be down by the river.
She takes a knee in front of one, face out of view where it can't betray any emotion.
[Slim, pale fingers trace the dark, precise lines of kanji in granite, the edges of a name, of someone she knows, someone few others in Adstring would. Surrounding her there are others, people here and people at home. Dead and living still. Some aren't proper stones, just simple, wooden markers, the sort a pauper or a beggar might have--or a child of the Rukongai who died to leave nothing but a name. Renji and Ukitake and other names. Ichigo--nowhere near his sisters. Orihime's, simple and lovely. Shizuku and Homura on simple wooden markers, the kanji on her brother's exuding nobility even like this.
Others, like this one, are as simple as they are stately. Shiba Kaien, reduced to nothing more than lines on a stone and whatever she is seeing for herself.
She let's out a shaky breath.]
Sorry. To everyone.
[And then she turns, lifting the PCD, shaking the hair out of her eyes, her face in a still mask, not betraying how sad she is, how hard this is on a day like today.]
If anyone needs me, I will be down by the river.