Naminé is a professional at secrecy. Maybe it's because, as she phrases it, there isn't too much to conceal- but she tells the story, so maybe she has her own skeletons swept under the sketches.
There are half-drawn memories tinted with worry and guilt from her hands.
There are polite reprimands dancing between threats- there is a vague ghost of another shadow, disappointed in her for the whimsical misgivings and…
Before she dismisses it as the hero or the replica, before she replies that anyways it was all pantomime, Naminé changes. A small quiver in the façade, to when it was a girl and a researcher discussing existence and parting with stilted sweetened smiles- a disappointment, because for all his 'knowledge' he still failed her and-
No, he didn't matter; she says with her coy grin and pretends she isn't hiding behind a pitiful veil of sunlight-blond bangs.
A.N. – 'cos it's still valid if one of them doesn't get mentioned by name. And, since I'm not sure if I've done this little trick before, I'm throwing in the excuse here. So sorry if this has happened before and I just danced around little loopholes.
And as always, thanks a million for reading! Oh, and if you'd like to leave a review, it would be awesome and all… but I'm not going to pressure any of you. I'm happy if it's read.
So thanks for all, and see you around!