welcome home

More come. And more. And more. Some he knows. Some are new. Seiji's dark eyes pause on every stranger with a studious alertness, but in the end he always moves on. What he seeks is not here. He is content to wait a little while longer — where else to go? Maybe something will happen. And even if it doesn't, he knows Kiada. He almost knows Waker, Roscorro, K'yarie. The antlered man. He lingers, watching them, but in his heart a hole opens up. And a kind of frantic despair: what you seek is not here. He should go. He doesn't really know why he came. But he is here, still here, when the great deer arrives. The antlered doe. That same sensation of quiet awe; Seiji's head turns and he gives her his full attention. She is the nearest thing to a god he's ever witnessed. If things were different, if he had come of his own volition, if this were not an errand, he would want to speak with her. He would want to watch her more carefully. But now, now he is here with other things in mind and her words aren't meant for him. He knows this. All at once: the utter cold of being a total outsider. He should not be here. He's silent still (of course) after she's done speaking. He supposes he should be glad — glad for Roscorro — glad for Rixen. But he feels something else welling up in him, some vague frustration. How much generosity can he ask of his overtaxed heart? He isn't glad for them. He isn't glad at all, in the moment. Just out of place. He doesn't belong here. He doesn't want to be part of their herd. He's slipping back, even as the others are talking. He won't draw attention to himself, if he can avoid it. He has no desire to ruin their gathering, but he has every desire to run — maybe all the way back to the beach. Maybe just until he can't feel anything. He is backing away, back, back, and then he is turning and putting his legs to use. Seiji knows how to run. If he didn't, he wouldn't be in this mess at all — he'd simply be dead.

img by Tildae @ flickr

ooc // Seiji has left the gathering.