[Okay. Good. They get it, whoever this, whoever this partner, these friends of Ritsuka's are. That's great right?
Of course they need something. Ritsuka's out cold. Every healing spell that phone of Yasuho's could spill out, she did until she collapsed herself, and Ritsuka's still not waking up. White as a ghost, shuddering with every breath, a simultaneous reason to fear and to breathe with relief because apparently despite the literal worst she just won't die.
(And won't that be fun to explain, Yasuho can't help but think as she sits there, arms weakly supported by her knees while her arguable best friend of recent days sits wrapped up on a racecar bed.)
(Won't that be grand, when she knows Ritsuka will probably blink off the shock and smile and say 'well it's fine now', or possibly even 'I've had worse'.)
Of course they need help, but there's a dark cloud on her thoughts that asks, Can you Actually Trust what you're Reading?
Ritsuka would know if these were the people they said they were.
But Ritsuka isn't awake. And with just what it was that told her there could be danger to begin with, she can only imagine how many on her normal, actual phone contacts are unavailable for their own reasons.
Just a little longer, it says. She wants to scream that she doesn't want to look at this a 'little longer'. Her friend isn't supposed to look like this. She's not supposed to be dead weight in her arms, she's not supposed to be red on white, an image that refuses to go away even long after she's scrubbed half away.
'If you need anything', she reads again, but all she can think is 'what if that becomes a trap?'
Yasuho stares at the message a little longer before sending one last thing back.]
Okay
We won't be found.
[The only thing she can send, until Ritsuka wakes and tells her with a smile as fragile as it is sincere, that it'll be okay.]
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Of course they need something. Ritsuka's out cold. Every healing spell that phone of Yasuho's could spill out, she did until she collapsed herself, and Ritsuka's still not waking up. White as a ghost, shuddering with every breath, a simultaneous reason to fear and to breathe with relief because apparently despite the literal worst she just won't die.
(And won't that be fun to explain, Yasuho can't help but think as she sits there, arms weakly supported by her knees while her arguable best friend of recent days sits wrapped up on a racecar bed.)
(Won't that be grand, when she knows Ritsuka will probably blink off the shock and smile and say 'well it's fine now', or possibly even 'I've had worse'.)
Of course they need help, but there's a dark cloud on her thoughts that asks, Can you Actually Trust what you're Reading?
Ritsuka would know if these were the people they said they were.
But Ritsuka isn't awake. And with just what it was that told her there could be danger to begin with, she can only imagine how many on her normal, actual phone contacts are unavailable for their own reasons.
Just a little longer, it says. She wants to scream that she doesn't want to look at this a 'little longer'. Her friend isn't supposed to look like this. She's not supposed to be dead weight in her arms, she's not supposed to be red on white, an image that refuses to go away even long after she's scrubbed half away.
'If you need anything', she reads again, but all she can think is 'what if that becomes a trap?'
Yasuho stares at the message a little longer before sending one last thing back.]
Okay
We won't be found.
[The only thing she can send, until Ritsuka wakes and tells her with a smile as fragile as it is sincere, that it'll be okay.]