[There's a polite nod of the head, and Ringabel uses his foot to pull a chair back for the other to sit in, if he so chose. The book of D is with him of course, and he carefully uses a gloved hand to close it, regardless of whether or not the youth chooses to sit.
What's he been doing with it? Well. When Biyomon ran off, he's taken the opportunity to compare the entries of two particular journals within, just in case there's some way, shape or form she could be right...
But he's found nothing. The page detailing the death of the author is covered in blood. And written, in blood, is the number 6. Tiz, Edea, Agnès, Airy... they're four. With himself, is 5. So why 6? ]
I'm certain she's wrong. For one, this book would have told me. This is a prophetic journal, written in past tense, which has successfully and reliably predicted every event within my life. It ends in harrowing fashion, of course. But it says nothing of my friends killing me.
[And there's a small sigh, as he opens the blood-smeared page, gazing at it a little while longer.]
Entirely implausible. Regardless, she doesn't see it.
no subject
[There's a polite nod of the head, and Ringabel uses his foot to pull a chair back for the other to sit in, if he so chose. The book of D is with him of course, and he carefully uses a gloved hand to close it, regardless of whether or not the youth chooses to sit.
What's he been doing with it? Well. When Biyomon ran off, he's taken the opportunity to compare the entries of two particular journals within, just in case there's some way, shape or form she could be right...
But he's found nothing. The page detailing the death of the author is covered in blood. And written, in blood, is the number 6. Tiz, Edea, Agnès, Airy... they're four. With himself, is 5. So why 6? ]
I'm certain she's wrong. For one, this book would have told me. This is a prophetic journal, written in past tense, which has successfully and reliably predicted every event within my life. It ends in harrowing fashion, of course. But it says nothing of my friends killing me.
[And there's a small sigh, as he opens the blood-smeared page, gazing at it a little while longer.]
Entirely implausible. Regardless, she doesn't see it.