Rachel probably isn't one of them. Doesn't stop her letting her braided hair dangled from the rafters, followed by an arm that pokes the top of his head gently. "You alright?"
Anything to make him comfortable...she makes a mental note notto pop out of the rafters at him from now on.
Not that she'll remember in truth...but she'll try.
So she slips down as gently as any feather, a lick of flame along her skin for a second, then seats herself. "Who?" she asked curiously. notthat she knows many people here, but perhaps given a mental imagew, she can at least offer something...
She watched his fingers for a moment, using it to distract herself from the growing anger and worry in her companion...but then, clear as a summer day, there's an image at the edge of his mind.
It's like a slap. A blow she hadn't been expecting, and the blood draining from her faceis no doubt a good indication of how easily it strikes home.
"Longer than anyone else here" she confirmed, afraid to slip into mental speech as she so desperately wanted. It would be easier, given the trembling inher voice...but it would leave too much blood and pain in it's wake.
Some of it already shows in her normal voice, though. Wellard's eyes drop to his hands on the table. Tool had been broken, and if Rachel knew her-
There are ways of dealing with being broken. Many different ways, and he can hear some of that in Rachel's voice. It is easy enough to guess how long, and in what circumstances, she met Tool.
She closes her eyes a moment, desperately seeking some form of inner calm. She fals of course, but at least she manages to firm up her crumbling mask "Why...why are you looking for her?"
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The rafters are a bit of a surprise, though, and Wellard blinks at her.
"Miss Rachel- are you alright up there?"
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She looks...tired. More worn than their last meeting, but at least she's still smiling. "You just seemed a little preoccupied, thought I'd ask.."
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"I was just watching for someone- I hadn't seen her since..." His lips purse in a worried frown. "For a while."
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Not that she'll remember in truth...but she'll try.
So she slips down as gently as any feather, a lick of flame along her skin for a second, then seats herself. "Who?" she asked curiously. notthat she knows many people here, but perhaps given a mental imagew, she can at least offer something...
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"... I gave her a name, though it wasn't what she called herself. She.... really didn't have one-" And he would be damned if he called her Tool.
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It's like a slap. A blow she hadn't been expecting, and the blood draining from her faceis no doubt a good indication of how easily it strikes home.
"Tool"
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"...You know her." Statement, not a question- specially given Rachel's reaction.
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There are ways of dealing with being broken. Many different ways, and he can hear some of that in Rachel's voice. It is easy enough to guess how long, and in what circumstances, she met Tool.
Even if those guesses are technically wrong.
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"... I was worried. I- I had talked to her, and... I didn't know if she had come to any,"
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"harm here."
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"No. She is with my brother" she noted, eyes still firmly closed.
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"... Is she alright, then?"
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"No, of course not"
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