: ( for a moment, sanga doesn't say a thing. she doesn't react. doesn't turn to him. doesn't even acknowledge his presence. her eyes are bloodshot and crimson. her form is weary — god, what is this woman if not weary, though? — but she does not compromise to slump or slouch. the grasses, downtrodden by unknown feet, yield to the invisi̶b̶l̶e̶ ̶ ̶T̶H̶I̶N̶G̶ but no, not sanga. not now. not ever. she cannot afford to.
if this were a lighter situation, one'd think she were having a staring contest with the molecules before her eyes, swimming with something only she can see.
oh, but there is something there. she can see it, in the gathering clouds, something within the tempest that stirs an ugly, horrid brew where IT lies. )
... ikeda. you should go. i can̶ ̶h̶a̶n̶d̶l̶e̶ ̶ ̶I̶T̶.̶
( it comes as an echo of her voice. there's an unmistakable edge that junpei's definitely never heard from her before. raw. teetering the delicate line between the storm's eye and the terrible, harrowing inferno that consumes all. her rigid form does not compromise, but her eyes glance his way for a moment. did she even hear what he said? it doesn't matter. she stares at the horizon as if she's going to go down there and impale it with her spears millionfold. ) ; @butchrvanity ﹏ .
// hiiii :3
