Nadine R. Valencia
(Just a small note: Nadine's actually sleeping in her basket chair, not on her bed. Also, there aren't really many typical "girl things" in Nadine's room. As I mentioned, it's basically filled almost completely with books and bookshelves.)
Nadine's blue eyes gazed intently upon the stranger as he tried to come up with an answer. His words seemed as though they were coming from across a long distance, as though he was struggling to wake up after a long, long sleep. His words only confirmed this when they came at last, for speaking with regret and disdain for the item now on her finger, he cursed it as having imprisoned him for "over a hundred years." And yet, a moment later, he concurred with her previous statement, revealing that he was, indeed, the ring itself. Then... which was it? Was it his prison, or somehow an intrinsic part of himself? Or was it both? But how could someone be imprisoned within their own self? Nadine supposed that the answer to that was easy, if only in a metaphorical sense. Each and every day, she felt trapped within her own skin. And yet, she couldn't even begin to imagine how it must have felt, if this boy was telling the truth. To have been trapped alone for so long... It seemed too horrible to even think about.
"I'm... so sorry," She apologized, feeling somehow implicit in the boy's suffering just by now wearing the ring that must have caused him such pain. Nadine felt like she had to say something, and yet, what words should she use? Such a simple apology surely would be inadequate condolence for the "crime" she felt as though she had now become an accomplice in. But, on the other hand, it seemed to her that it would be the pinnacle of conceit to try to act like she could understand how he must have felt. And, furthermore, she feared that if she paid too much attention to the subject, it might show that she pitied the boy. What if that only insulted him? But what if he was looking for sympathy? She supposed that she might wish for someone to try to comfort her after something so terrible as being alone, trapped for over a century. But, on the other hand, there was no way for her to be sure that this person felt the same way. Then... what should she say? Nadine didn't know the answer to that. It was just like always. Try though she might to understand others, she found herself completely unable to interact with people. Nevertheless, she resolved to try her best, opening her mouth and trying to find even mildly appropriate words for the situation, only to find a gasp the only sound that left her as the boy abruptly tripped on something and collapsed on the floor next to her chair. Rising up, she peered over the edge of the basket seat, concern evident in her face.
It was somewhat odd, come to think of it. Even though this boy had just suddenly appeared in her room, she found herself taking his words to be true without question, and worrying about his well-being even though she had no idea who he was. It was to be expected, though, she supposed. This situation... it was just what she had been wishing for, wasn't it? Something exciting, fantastical, and impossible was unfolding before her - no, with her at the very center of it. This was everything she had always dreamed of made into a reality right before her very eyes. She couldn't help but feel her fears disappearing and, although her sense of astonishment and wonder was still there, Nadine felt... happy.
"A-are you alright?" She stammered, bending over the edge of the chair without thinking and offering a hand to help the boy up on reflex. To her slight surprise, he didn't seem to even notice that she had moved. Hmm... that was a little odd. Come to think of it, he'd been holding that book upside down, hadn't he? It seemed like it, anyway, since the pages and spine had been reversed from the sides they should have been on. And yet, it had looked like he was trying to read it. Had he not noticed that, either? Maybe his eyesight was bad, like hers. For a moment, Nadine thought of offering him her own glasses, but stopped, wondering if he would even recognize their function. Although he'd only said that he had been imprisoned for "over a hundred years" the note in the puzzle box had talked about things like alchemy, hadn't it? That was a psuedoscience that had fallen out of favor much, much earlier than a hundred years ago. Then, it might be possible that he'd been sealed away for more than three centuries, wasn't it? And if that was the case, there was no way he'd recognize what "glasses" even were, as they weren't invented until much later than the twilight of alchemy. However, this wasn't the only realization that struck her.
Namely, Nadine, tipped off both by her increased level of consciousness and by the feeling of her exposed legs brushing against the cushions beneath her as she had moved, realized exactly what it was she was wearing, causing her to instinctively retreat back into the center of the basket, rapidly slipping beneath a blanket and covering herself with it as quickly as possible, a hue of vibrant scarlet emerging on her cheeks. Just being seen in her pajamas would have been embarrassing enough. The fact that she was being seen by an unfamiliar young man, in her own bedroom, alone, in the middle of the night only made it worse. And, on top of all of these issues, she'd even unintentionally chosen a rather revealing ensemble for her night clothing, consisting only of a rather embarrassingly thin and short, gown-like top that only reached down to her thighs and happened to be so loose in the collar that it was sagging to a point below her shoulders, exposing much more in the way of cleavage than she was comfortable with. Suffice to say, Nadine just hoped that her previous assessment of the boy's vision was correct, because if it wasn't, she felt like she might just die of shame.
However, judging by the boy's apparent ignorance as to her current state of clothing, it seemed she didn't have to worry about that for the moment, at least. Or at least, that was what she hoped. Nevertheless, she pulled her blanket covering more tightly around herself, her head and sleeve-covered hands poking out from amidst a tangle of various pillows and sheets. Adjusting her glasses, which had been knocked slightly loose by the force of her start backwards, she quickly replied to the boy, Niko's, questioning.
"I-I'm Nadine. Nadine Valencia," She answered quietly, trying to speak as clearly as possible, not wanting to let her embarrassment show. Sadly, she wasn't quite able to master herself, and ended up stammering as she found herself doing all too often. "N-nice to meet you... A-ah... Is it alright if I just use your first name...? O-or is there something else you'd prefer me to call you by?" Looking nervously up at him, she stopped for a moment, concern once more crossing her features as she noticed the faint red stain on Niko's sleeve as he wiped his face.
"A-ah...! You're bleeding. A-are you okay?"