when — june 30th where — the mall who — @mattyalston
She runs a hand over her face, an ache starting to form in the hollow of her chest. The sad thing about adrenaline is that it always leaves and when it does, it makes her feel mortal again, and small, and hurting. It is no easy feat, to return to the centre of the mall, to follow the sounds of people convening and accept that this is it, for a while. This place, it truly is a matryoshka doll. Cage opening to reveal another to reveal another to reveal another.
Daiyu has half a mind to find a way out, abuse the privilege she has been granted by her position (something she resents doing and denies herself on sheer principle, almost all of the time) and avoid being shot down or forced back by guards. But there’s people here that are more important than her own selfish fears of being stuck in the building. Where would she go, anyway? To her father? To be alone? The desire is there, certainly, but what weighs heaver is them. Something about love’s strength Daiyu is unable to verbalise, even in her mind.
So she moves into the mall, inspecting the hand she’s just ran over her face. There’s grime, blood, something stuck under her nail. The smell of gunpowder. Daiyu looks up from it and finds a face in the crowd, rushes over — he’s been on her mind, ever since she heard his distance voice come from the front of the truck Nik had been driving. She’s rude as she moves over, pushing a person or two aside as she picks up speed and then rushes right into his arms, pulling him into hers despite all the height he has on her.
These public displays of affection, of touch, of closeness are rare, considered risky confession to watchful eyes, but Daiyu can’t find it in her to care. “You’re alright.” The words exhaled, spoken against his chest as she pulls back, looks up. “Right? You’re alright. Fuck, I’m so glad.”