Elle-san:
Soothed in front of that silky smile curling upon those rosy bubblegum lips teased into a radiant smile melded to a caring motion trying to reassure the little girl looking at her. Truth be told idols doesn’t actually exist here yet some individuals was triumphally raised to the echelon of a divinity— Alike Milla Maxwell for instance either Jude for all achievements done along his first and second journey, now carried by a title of heroe, savior of Rieze Maxia, great, smart researcher of Origin—.. Elle drew herself off to thoughts, facing the tealette idol adopting a blooming expression kneading her youth features sparkling in thousand melting stars lingering within deep blue iris fluttering onto the other’s tiniest size. Pretty not everyone does show a happy face nowadays, didn’t they? Well being hurled in the midst of nowhere is certainly frightening to a one degree of predicament nonetheless even a good musing cannot toss off the totality of the heartless reality chasing fragment of hopes wadering throughout corridors of despair creeping out behind.
Sauntering casually lonely shouldn’t be allowed toward kids, shouldn’t it? Pressurized underlining the curious case of gaining a peculiar interest growing inside her juvenile reflections bubbling up, none questions was so ongoing preserved whether the topic of not wandering without friends nor guardians was becoming refreshing, either. Anyway as she continuously ventured until bumping into a foreigner waking up from a misty dream early before the emphasis Elle tardily reacted in front of the idol equally taken aback growing in dominance as the sentiment overcome the barrier of fearsome presentiment gnawing her assumptions— She acknowledged to be puzzled, that’s a often reaction nevertheless couldn’t handling the reality apart dream is so awkward. Mesmerized by daydreams is such a bashful assault conspired. One of reward given is to be able to walk anywhere without having the help of a map nor demanding a adult’s action in the rush of circumstances.
Luckily for the tiniest child who has the proper time to recoil her steps backward to prevent a lose of balance upon skipping a step out of surprise. In any case both of these females were fortunately safe without receiving bloody wounds. What a relieving note to record, meanwhile the blonde haired maiden breathed a smoothed sigh extracted from lungs she enigmatically wondered what kind of anxiety can terrorize gradually that bluette at a point of seeing her pretty porcelain lineaments wrapped by a vague quietude flowing through her feminine visage craned to a side while her widened deep nocturnal pupils analyzed the little one gripping her fancy gaze locking the melodist progressively gaining a stifling anxiety via sweatdrops poured upon wet cheeks becoming more paler yet perhaps whether engaging a discussion will certainly ceasing the stressful momentos to tackle.
"Yeah, how?" She repeating a second time per say, the fact that the bluette somehow wandered without knowing the full reason quietly brought out a deteriorating and horrible taste glued on the tip of Elle’s tongue since her keener interest was struck so badly though asking for responses isn’t partially what was planned early regardless the substantial reason behind. The blonde female paused, regaining the initial contortion of her head shook. But that nonsense when it comes to not remembering the precise instant of difference of being in the coalescence melded in a fuzzy perception bouncing up foolish theories contradicting each other assumptions misting the latter’s senses of reality. Such a problem to not grab a remembrance of how she could ended up there without devices or magic artes. "You mean.. During your sleep, everything changed?" Well perhaps a bunch of peculiar situations might happen everywhere no matte the world is, isn’t it? Athough speaking frankly Elle hasn’t expected that, even a little.
"Hm, it’s Papa whom has chosen it!" Voice chiming, she doesn’t hidden he pride concerning her unique name sounding absolutely angelic, carefully picked up for a craft choice obviously however never a question came across the child’s mind, burning up the curiosity at its paroxysm requiring to inquire why that name suited so much.. Too much, it was not something troubling albeit children are always, constantly sinking in a rightful desie to cast a tidal wave of questions pilled through her throat— Cheeks painted into cerise hues heating the skin she shifted her head elsewhere, crossing arms against her chest while no commentaries were made about those compliments dragged out from nowhere, out of the blue. Be flustered quickly is so easy to tease that little weak nerve grinding the patience decreasing from time to time. Meanwhile trouble is, mentioning Tigraph didn’t help at atll nor ringing any bells within recollections jogged.
"Nice to meet you too, Sayaka." She responded back along a polite tone matching up the atmosphere already soothed nonetheless giggling in a rush isn’t kind of stupid? Meaning that problem currently over bursting the lifting weight of culpability hovering. Despite of all, Sayaka’s face remained quite eased instead of giving up into the panic dropped early after a small period of consideration accentuating her thin lineaments geared mostly relieved than sparkling a dully expression accompanied by a weariness apprehension, specifically aiming the inescapable thought of being stranded along a unspecifed time.. Maybe one week? Two? Three months? Who knows, after all the discomfort and unpleasent sentiment can’t be shifted without having a a hurting reflection murmuring to perhaps, there’s no chances to come back at home. "Why not..? You don’t seem to be a bad girl and.. Ludger always say to help everyone kind and lost." Sentence followed by a light nod, sign of the positive answers. Chances might appear often whethe both girls are stuck together, in a best case.
Pallid auricomous was the chromaticity of the ringlets formed in pigtails that’d oscillate elegantly in the wind, not cutting from neat proportions as the polite, soft breeze disappears into the humid(?) air encompassing the two female silhouettes. A child is the other indeed, a young and dainty young damsel she is; the term (‘child’;’kid’;) assuming that she’s nothing more than an immature brat with sticky lips and hands that never knew boundaries. Perhaps she is one whom chafes for albatross and values to be loaded upon, to trust her as one would with an adult and treat her as if she weren’t at such a tender age. Howbeit the sapphire, who is intuitive and kind, who pretends the world is bright pink when it’s dark gray, and waters wilted perennials despite the un-cognizant nature;— deplores the stereotype with her own two hands ( --that once clasped onto a microphone cord while swinging her hips and singing an up-beat divertimento about confectionery and break-ups). For Elle, the youth whom she knows not so much of a thing about, is lavishly more of a 'young adult' than she is a child.
Millions, there were, of possible assumptions and theories that could assist in filling the missing puzzle piece of what exactly happened to have her become in an unknown area that looks as if it was taken straight from a pixelated video-game and brought to life, the ambience and townsfolk appearing surreal, as if one touch, one grazing of fingertips would feverishly fade them away into ceramic, meaningless dust. Contradicting her own words, even, she can’t necessarily recall feeling somnolent or falling into slumber, she remembers her life and her values and ambitions, her preeminence and capability; though it feels like a small chunk has been ripped out, effecting all the bordering areas of her psyche and eventually plunging all syllogism into an un-fastidious pile of turmoil as if it were only an innocuous game of jenga.
She breathes, taking in crest zephyr that halts to taste even polluted at all, as if built on fantasy and void of factories and storms and tobacco. Words and lips fumble invisibly while she works to form explainable, understandable sentences for both the latter and herself to believe. Though forced reasoning doesn’t do the idol any good, for all it lands is even more questions and a keen sense of anxiety that she deems indecent, untrue. When she’s at last eligible to weave a sentence with her teeth, it's smoothed over in a rich-tone. Like soft chocolate being poured into moulds. Soothing, delicious, believable. Even in the most dire of moments, a smile, a simper, a radiant beam can touch upon rosy phizog without so much of a thought-- no, it's only routine.
“Hee hee. It's quite unbelievable, isn't it?” Maroon heels with metallic buckles, she notices, looking down at her own feet and softly scraping her heel against the ground, taking notice in the subtle sound it resounds. Visage navigates from the tips of blonde pig-tails to the hardness of solid earth, aimlessly wondering what would've happened if she were to seek help in anyone but this young lady. The world is a dangerous place, and Sayaka knows this better than most. “Memories are funny things, you know,” Lifting a finger to the rim of her chin, she adorns a quaint beam, interest piqued upon the blueness of her eyes, “If a memory disappears at random... It's weird, yes, but it's still somewhat....” They flicker, these eyes of hers, lips and timbre trailing off together at once, stark realization hitting her that her statement lead her nowhere. When she giggles, it's a perfect giggle, if giggles could be perfect; as if each sound and syllable of laughter was a memorized ivory key in her brain and she'd mastered the skill of it, (and quite frankly, that was more than likely).
Papa? A loved one she assumes, a doting father. An attribute to her life she'd never acquired, she muses, memories faintly fading toward a father busy with work and a mother who was long gone since the most infantile of her years. The past is in the past, however, and dwelling upon it(or anything) doesn't change nor does it improve anything. A beam graces the rosiness of her cheeks, posture copied straight from manuals, polite manner she speaks in coming only naturally. “Papa, hm? Your father?” She'll inquire, with a keen sense of kindness delivering timbre.
Grinning, her countenance reflects something as strong as the sun; a source of ‘energy’. Eyes shut and vision vanishes temporarily, happiness steadily rising to “doll-like” features bit-by-bit. “-- Really?” She steps forward, clasping her hands together and looks directly downward at the small girl; something like amazement glittering in her eyes. “Thank you! It... it means a-lot, Elle-san, for you to let me tag along with you. Really.” So very kind and sweet she is. Hands unclasp and form behind her back, stitching together and assuming a regular pose.
“You’re very... hm... heroic, Elle-san. Hee hee. This Ludger must be very wonderful, too.”
