[ Probably should ask about it, but not that it makes much difference - it's nothing unsafe, perfectly harmless. It's just a game. They're just playing a game, in this strange world too far from everything they know and understand, especially for Mikazuki.
It's sweet here, and mild, so different from what he had known. It's not the dry refiltered air aboard the Isaribi, the manufactured atmosphere of Mars - the very air they breathe here is sweet, full of life in a way that he has never been quite aware of. Things grow freely here, without even having to be tended; it's a gentler, much more generous sort of world than what he's been accustomed to his whole life. Things aren't stamped out of existence here for no good reason.
Perhaps there is something to all this. Perhaps, maybe, there is a fraction of possibility here. But it isn't time yet.
Mikazuki just raises an eyebrow at the other. Quizzical, like he doesn't know what he means, a hint of curiosity like dog catching a whiff of scent, but the next minute he turns around, heading towards the other side of the square where the booth is set up for the game. There is a fair bit of crowd around them, gathering in numbers as the evening draw to its finale. Soon.
It is strange to be here, alone. He's never been alone before, the memories of his life before Orga came into it are nothing more than a haze, a fog, and anyway, those were not important anyway. Everything converges into a sharp, eye-watering focus around Orga for him - nothing else matters.
GARBAGE.......
It's sweet here, and mild, so different from what he had known. It's not the dry refiltered air aboard the Isaribi, the manufactured atmosphere of Mars - the very air they breathe here is sweet, full of life in a way that he has never been quite aware of. Things grow freely here, without even having to be tended; it's a gentler, much more generous sort of world than what he's been accustomed to his whole life. Things aren't stamped out of existence here for no good reason.
Perhaps there is something to all this. Perhaps, maybe, there is a fraction of possibility here. But it isn't time yet.
Mikazuki just raises an eyebrow at the other. Quizzical, like he doesn't know what he means, a hint of curiosity like dog catching a whiff of scent, but the next minute he turns around, heading towards the other side of the square where the booth is set up for the game. There is a fair bit of crowd around them, gathering in numbers as the evening draw to its finale. Soon.
It is strange to be here, alone. He's never been alone before, the memories of his life before Orga came into it are nothing more than a haze, a fog, and anyway, those were not important anyway. Everything converges into a sharp, eye-watering focus around Orga for him - nothing else matters.
It is strange. ]