isn't it lovely all alone, heart made of glass, my mind of stone
She had noticed him, but just barely.
His presence pressed against her subconscious, caused a ripple of disturbance, but not enough that she felt the need to acknowledge him. They did that frequently, she had noticed; passed close to her, but did not offer to interact, and of course she did not offer either. She didn’t mind. She preferred being able to choose her company, to pick out the ones that caught her attention — that lit even just a spark of curiosity inside of her. She did not smile at or even make eye contact with all who passed her, and had he not spoken to her, he would have been no exception.
There is a delayed response from her, as though perhaps she did not hear him. Her eyes remain skyward, shifting and adjusting a few of the stars. The shape they make is not discernible as anything in particular; they are arranged in a pattern that seem to only make sense to her, and she does not expect anyone else to appreciate them.
She turns her head, finally, the starlight highlighting the sharp lines and angles of her face. She smiles, and it is a small, almost mechanical gesture, but her eyes focus entirely on him. “I don’t name them, no,” she answers him, and her voice is surprising light despite the impersonal coolness to it. “But I still know who they are.”
She leaves the latest constellation suspended where it is, and turns to fully face the man that has approached her. He glows like moonlight, and it intrigues her. “Who are you?”
@[Mesec]