[ She's quiet, listening to anyone willing to speak after the fact, finding her eyes drawn surface-ward more often than not. Chihiro swallows, moves when a group moves back, toward the safer waters.
Then she swims. Swims, but doesn't swim toward much; swims up, because the most pressing urge she has right now is to breach the surface and breathe even when she knows she's only dreaming. It's an urge that carries in her emotions, touching on anything nearby, lingering once she's passed. The homesickness, the heartsickness, and the driving need to get up. Even breaking the surface isn't enough, surrounded as she is by then with figments of her own memories. Fat fish ghosting by on the wings of birds, the light of this place unable to drown out the light of a sky. A living world, and a living entity. Part of it lived above the surface too, but no amount of manipulation could change the idea of this sky to match one of her own. She'd have to be below for that to work.
There's a logic to what she does manifest, the serpentine form of a dragon easier than even Haku's human form. He's a person she's left behind, and one day, some years from now, she's certain they will meet again. He'd promised. She has faith in that promise. It makes it easier to bear him as a memory where the thought of her parents makes her stomach feel small and her chest constrict. He swims around her in the water, going still when she turns to face him, mane and whiskers still in constant motion. Her face falls, and she kicks out, swimming closer, reaching out to touch a memory that stays as still as she can remember him holding in front of Zeniba's cabin. She buries her face against his forehead, letting her tears fall like the saltwater that sheds off her face, dripping off her hair. ]
I'm not going to forget them. [ Her parents, but she doesn't name who. ] How are we going to help them? [ The Emperor and the Dragon. She also doesn't bother naming either. ] It feels so big. Does that ever get easier?
[ It's her memories, and her mind, supplying only questions and silence as answer. The form of the dragon Haku could be simply stayed as he was, watching through green eyes. Solving problems this big felt impossible; but even at the thought, she knows she can't give up. It's her form of determination mingled in with stubbornness, knowing she'll keep trying regardless.
Knowing that while she might be escaping in the moment to a friend in memory, that she has friends and companions to turn to and rely on here, too. It makes it easier to let go, running one hand over Haku's maned face, pulling her head back and rubbing at her eyes. ]
I guess it doesn't matter. I've still got to do everything I can either way.
pointlessly self indulgent but /thumbs... up... on the surface in dreamscape afterward
Then she swims. Swims, but doesn't swim toward much; swims up, because the most pressing urge she has right now is to breach the surface and breathe even when she knows she's only dreaming. It's an urge that carries in her emotions, touching on anything nearby, lingering once she's passed. The homesickness, the heartsickness, and the driving need to get up. Even breaking the surface isn't enough, surrounded as she is by then with figments of her own memories. Fat fish ghosting by on the wings of birds, the light of this place unable to drown out the light of a sky. A living world, and a living entity. Part of it lived above the surface too, but no amount of manipulation could change the idea of this sky to match one of her own. She'd have to be below for that to work.
There's a logic to what she does manifest, the serpentine form of a dragon easier than even Haku's human form. He's a person she's left behind, and one day, some years from now, she's certain they will meet again. He'd promised. She has faith in that promise. It makes it easier to bear him as a memory where the thought of her parents makes her stomach feel small and her chest constrict. He swims around her in the water, going still when she turns to face him, mane and whiskers still in constant motion. Her face falls, and she kicks out, swimming closer, reaching out to touch a memory that stays as still as she can remember him holding in front of Zeniba's cabin. She buries her face against his forehead, letting her tears fall like the saltwater that sheds off her face, dripping off her hair. ]
I'm not going to forget them. [ Her parents, but she doesn't name who. ] How are we going to help them? [ The Emperor and the Dragon. She also doesn't bother naming either. ] It feels so big. Does that ever get easier?
[ It's her memories, and her mind, supplying only questions and silence as answer. The form of the dragon Haku could be simply stayed as he was, watching through green eyes. Solving problems this big felt impossible; but even at the thought, she knows she can't give up. It's her form of determination mingled in with stubbornness, knowing she'll keep trying regardless.
Knowing that while she might be escaping in the moment to a friend in memory, that she has friends and companions to turn to and rely on here, too. It makes it easier to let go, running one hand over Haku's maned face, pulling her head back and rubbing at her eyes. ]
I guess it doesn't matter. I've still got to do everything I can either way.