[ there is something utterly flat in the expression that follows that all-too-animated handshake. judgement that sticks its heels in the sand, waits with a lack of feeling for what will one day follow. fyodor knows but will simply brush it aside; only fools approach him with this brazen confidence and most end six-feet under; his hand is released and fyodor makes a point of tucking it along his side, one arm across his chest as if to ward off the unwanted company.
at first, he thinks--it's done, it's over, move on--with the singular cynicism that is characteristic of his train of thoughts. one shiny thing traded out for another, then forgotten, tomorrow is another day and one moves on-- fyodor turns back to the ocean and the waves, and the promise of impermanence in the eternity of each atom that is part of that body of water--except
gojo satoru is still here, looking back at him and fyodor tilts his head every so slightly to stare, from those blue eyes down to the tiny shell cradled on the palm. fyodor takes it because to not do so would be rude, and it's damp and hard and smooth, the ridges of the edge the only imperfection. it's pretty, and pretty useless.
clearly, there is something fundamentally wrong with this man. ] Thank you. [ politeness weighs in, he pulls back, and puts it inside his pocket to throw away later.
then silence; he is not someone who speaks casually, if gojo is here for conversation of the meaningless, friendly type, he's out of luck. ] 'Seen everything' is a bold claim.
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at first, he thinks--it's done, it's over, move on--with the singular cynicism that is characteristic of his train of thoughts. one shiny thing traded out for another, then forgotten, tomorrow is another day and one moves on-- fyodor turns back to the ocean and the waves, and the promise of impermanence in the eternity of each atom that is part of that body of water--except
gojo satoru is still here, looking back at him and fyodor tilts his head every so slightly to stare, from those blue eyes down to the tiny shell cradled on the palm. fyodor takes it because to not do so would be rude, and it's damp and hard and smooth, the ridges of the edge the only imperfection. it's pretty, and pretty useless.
clearly, there is something fundamentally wrong with this man. ] Thank you. [ politeness weighs in, he pulls back, and puts it inside his pocket to throw away later.
then silence; he is not someone who speaks casually, if gojo is here for conversation of the meaningless, friendly type, he's out of luck. ] 'Seen everything' is a bold claim.