“Grif–” and before she can even process that the voice did belong to the bird it was confirmed by how he swoops down right above her. She must look like a deer caught in headlights. A hand reaches to touch Griffon. To make sure he was actually right here. She hadn’t checked her phone to see who arrived from the eclipse. She hadn’t checked the area to see for herself who arrived. She had done so at the beginning when Kyrie, Nero, and then V were sent back. She did it on and off and eventually she had just stopped all together. “You’re here…” And she doesn’t answer Griffon. Not yet.
Her attention turns, she searches but doesn’t need to search for long before he’s right there. She sees V standing there with his cane, with his vest and his punk-rock looking pants, his grandpa looking sandals (not really) and his long, long coat. She sees him in his tattoos and did she mention cane?
She looks back up at Griffon. Oh, her eyes are watering, but she’s really sucking them back in. Or attempting to. It works for like a second and then the water gates are opened.
The young adult had been sitting down, cleaning off the dirt and maybe some little injuries from previous. They weren’t huge ones. Just little scratches on her face and arms. She had been taking a break from her little training, but…Exhausted as she was from all of it, her body found energy to push her up from the ground and run over to V and in doing so she nearly trips, but she catches herself. Ismael SLAMS herself into V, arms immediately wrapped around her friend and she tightens her hold.
She won’t say anything. She’s sure both Griffon and V can just tell with just her body language alone.
She had missed these two immensely.
「 no shit! 」 rather than await her touch, griffon nears of his own accord, briefly perching on her forearm, 「 that real enough for ya?! haha! 」
although his familiar had a particularly... abrasive way of phrasing it, she does indeed look disheveled, V notes. sparring, perhaps? the exhaustion has rooted itself in her bones, harrowing her posture--- she is a wilted flower, ground into the dirt. with a little sunlight, surely she will rise again, turn her face towards the sky, and smile.
when she turns, and griffon retreats to hover beside her, he meets her gaze. despite her efforts to stifle the emotion welling in her eyes, the tears roll down her cheeks nonetheless. it was... not the reaction he had anticipated. his lips part, but before he is able to project his thoughts, utter her name, ismael is on her feet, and hurtling towards him. he has little time to process her approach, before her body collides with his own. the impact forces a grunt from his chest, and he stumbles back, bracing against his cane. once he’s steadied himself, V stiffens, a hand raising towards her shoulder. it stops short, hesitating for a moment... before he rests it tentatively upon her back, as the tension eases from his stance.
he says nothing, permitting her to a silence in which her thoughts may be uninterrupted, while he secrets away his own. it is strange, for his presence to be missed to the point of tears. she need not cry for a ghost... but that is in her nature, as he has come to understand it. nonetheless, he holds her gently in an arm, and he shall extend to her that comfort for however long she may need.
only griffon can be heard, cackling amusedly at the sight.
