"Man. You actually got on the cereal boxes? Looks like we can be matching! You can usually find me up on the back of milk cartons."
After she’s finished with her serving of milk, she passed the container over to Wukong. As the carton slid across the surface, the gaze of her eyes slipped to the cereal box. And although it lacked her image, the box had been of Pumpkin Pete’s. She’s not certain how their conversation derailed to this, but she knows that accepting their endorsement is not one of her proudest moments. All her hard work was for naught when the common populace recognized her as merely that cereal girl, instead of honoring her achievements, those she fought with tooth and nail to achieve. It is frustrating to be reduced to a mere mascot when she knows she is capable of greater things, has achieved greater things, but it mounts up to nothing at the promise of a check. She needed the money for tuition and equipment (which weren’t cheap), and coming from a humble background, the offer seemed like a blessing from the gods.
But never mind that, all this stuttering among the bening details seemed like nothing compared to the underlying tone of his words. She is nothing short of a fool for finding wrong on a great opportunity when others such as herself lived through a rougher patch. Just take for example her friend here, who just admitted being on the back of a milk carton. That’s for missing children - which leads her to believe that he either ran away from home, or was abducted and through wit, managed to flee. Of course there is the certainty of it being a ruse, cleverly disguised as a morbid joke. But that’s not something he would do, or at least, she assumes.
There are classmates who think lesser of him, not because of his ethnicity, but, the way he carries himself, with a disdain with normality. He dresses for the summer breeze and a carefree lifestyle, comfort above all else, because he never had the opportunity to relish on the comforts of being a child and free. There is struggle within his past, she has no proof but she knows because so little is known of him. That is because he probably doesn’t want anyone to know. He has secrets to hide, things he wishes not to relive because they are unpleasant. And despite that, his smiles come often and it is contagious. He smiles for others when they cannot do so themselves, and removes tension by being a comedic relief. It takes a certain kind of talent to braze through negativity and come out unchained by it, and she loves that about him, and wishes to be more like him. To be imposing and confident, to be able to win anyone over.
This may not be proper of her to think, but she looks at him and thinks he is a god amongst the living. Hair so golden like the sun with its mighty luminance and eyes so blue it mimics the endlessness of the sky. He belongs up there, not here with mortals so petty and corrupt. All he needs is his chariot to get to the gates.
Pyrrha reaches out, the pads of her fingers tracing over the stretch of his skin. She feels the heat from his skin radiate onto her and making her warm in turn. Her thumb rests over his wrist, the other fingers curving along the outline until her nails get on the meat of his palm. With her lead she stretches out his arm so that his hand is closer to her, and so she’s able to, without strain, hold his hand with two of her own. Both hands join together over his, securing it with a languid touch. “Please don’t say such things.” Currently a mix well of emotions, pyrrha tried her best to present a singular emotion upon her countenance, and that emotion is that of worry. “You are far more than a face on a milk carton, you’re Sun Wukong. And although it frightens me to think of all that you have endured, I am also, in some way, thankful for everything that has brought you here, with me, so that we could enjoy this moment together as friends.” As greedy as all of that sounds.
He is still her friend and she would like nothing more than to finish this meal at his side, stealing his time without guilt, at the cost of enjoying his company.
