then again, he doesn't much belong anywhere these days. but here — this is the first he's been away from akira since this all started, but far from the first time he'd felt the tendrils of panic. as much as he knows (which is very little), he knows at least to gauge the situation with a kind of suspicion that most wouldn't carry through to their bones.
it's likely why he doesn't end up participating.
instead, he'd taken to watching others from a distance on the shoreline, one of his last remaining cigarettes lit between his fingers and the amulet he'd been given tucked away in his pocket. he'd watched any number throw themselves to the lake, but ryo's familiar with uneasiness that ripples through his frame. even with the thick canvas of his coat shielding him, it's a vain effort. he knows something isn't —
oh. well, at least he doesn't seem surprised when the nearest person is pulled into the lake. he barely even lifts his head. ]
Don't just sit there.
[ he sniffs once. it isn't in the styling of anything derogatory. it doesn't wrinkle in his nose, pull up a corner of his lip with it. instead, it seems as though he's scented something — his gaze (for so it seems, behind the dark of his glasses) fixed out over the expanse of the lake. he doesn't extend a hand, but he gestures a little with the tilt of his chin toward a relatively flat patch of shore that he's memorized. ]
Hurry up and get out. [ he drops the stub of his cigarette after a beat — grinds it out beneath the toe of his boot. ] Freezing to death would be the least of your worries.
f3
then again, he doesn't much belong anywhere these days. but here — this is the first he's been away from akira since this all started, but far from the first time he'd felt the tendrils of panic. as much as he knows (which is very little), he knows at least to gauge the situation with a kind of suspicion that most wouldn't carry through to their bones.
it's likely why he doesn't end up participating.
instead, he'd taken to watching others from a distance on the shoreline, one of his last remaining cigarettes lit between his fingers and the amulet he'd been given tucked away in his pocket. he'd watched any number throw themselves to the lake, but ryo's familiar with uneasiness that ripples through his frame. even with the thick canvas of his coat shielding him, it's a vain effort. he knows something isn't —
oh. well, at least he doesn't seem surprised when the nearest person is pulled into the lake. he barely even lifts his head. ]
Don't just sit there.
[ he sniffs once. it isn't in the styling of anything derogatory. it doesn't wrinkle in his nose, pull up a corner of his lip with it. instead, it seems as though he's scented something — his gaze (for so it seems, behind the dark of his glasses) fixed out over the expanse of the lake. he doesn't extend a hand, but he gestures a little with the tilt of his chin toward a relatively flat patch of shore that he's memorized. ]
Hurry up and get out. [ he drops the stub of his cigarette after a beat — grinds it out beneath the toe of his boot. ] Freezing to death would be the least of your worries.
[ at least, he has reason to believe so. ]