Snippet #1275286

Sable's eyes never left Azure's face as he recounted the story of his friend- well, once-friend, she supposed. As he spoke, she tried to imagine how she would feel if one of her friends had suddenly snapped and killed as many people as he was describing. She found that, not really to her surprise, she could not begin to envision a situation like that.

It would seem that Azure himself had not been able to, either. She was somewhat puzzled, though, by what seemed to her to be a measure of guilt in his tone. Did he truly believe himself guilty of something here? Sable's stare shifted to her small hands, clasped as they had become in the fabric of her dress. That was odd- she didn't often have reactions to things she was told, either in the form of happiness or strain. It would seem, however, that something about either his story or the unwarranted shame she perceived in the telling had perturbed her.

The sound of the hatch opening drew her eyes upward- was it possible to leave this place so easily? She might have to consider it, soon... something about the space felt confining to her, as though there was something weighing upon her mind that had not been there before. Some small part of her was telling her to follow him despite his apparent desire to the contrary, but she shook her head minutely to herself. What good would that do? It was not as though she knew or could say anything helpful at a point like this; she was barely more than a prisoner at any rate.

Instead, Sable surveyed the room, and seeing nothing of particular interest happening, promptly lay on her side, back against the wall, and curled in on herself. She was tired... so very, very weary, and sleep seemed like the best thing she could do right now. Black eyes fluttered shut slowly, and she sank into unconsciousness.