@detectivenaotoshirogane
Naoto.
It is a quiet voice that brushes her thoughts, like a summer breeze that leaves a nostalgic warmth in its wake. No other would hear it, and perhaps no one but the woman in question would catch sight of the ethereal butterfly that appears as if it was entirely made of golden light, lands upon her shoulder. There is a single flap of its wings that seems to intensify its muted brilliance for an instance in time, before the deity continues to speak.
Are you well?
Whether she had reason to or not, ignoring the voice that often occupied her dreams--both deliberately and otherwise--presented itself as a difficult task to undertake. As the cool breeze, with an almost natural welcoming quality akin to the type it was likened to, brushed her cheek, she found herself thankful to find that she was relatively alone. That they were alone. There was a plan to execute should another find her, but for now, she could internally enjoy what this meeting brought.
âQuite well, are you here for business? It has been some time.â
There was a pause, only slight, but evident enough to be noticed as the sleuth looked towards the picturesque golden butterfly that was Philemon.
â--And you? How have you faired, in your realm between consciousness and unconsciousness.â
