estaim-blog1

[estaim-blog1]

"I know how you feel. If you want, you can talk to me. But I won't push it."

   his eyes don’t gloss the way they used to.  they do flicker,  break away from the ones akin to his and look at nothing.  at least that’s what he calls staring at his hands,  the ones he stretched once and came back holding nothing.  in other words,  not her.  he misses being with her———  he misses being.  and knowing riku implies he could relate gnaws at his nerves.

   ‘   i ․ ․ ․   ’   hope trusts him.  he does.  but he doesn’t trust himself to speak, not now,  so he just glances up,  and doesn’t miss a beat when he nods,  features softening in the comfort.   ‘   i appreciate it,  you know.   ’   

   right back at you,  he doesn’t say.

[estaim-blog1]

[estaim-blog1]

After all I’m overgrown with half-moves or half-lives.

Miron Białoszewski, from “Self-Portrait as Felt,” Seneca Review (vol. 46, no. 1, Spring 2016)

[estaim-blog1]

xion vc: sweet sweet lunar boy🌙💕

   hope vc does that make u night sky girl ??

[estaim-blog1]

murderaer‌  ̖́-

❝  hey, sooo … what does all this do?  ❞   /  @estaim

   ‘   broadly speaking,  the machinery helps us study time and its variants.  if you’re not careful around here,  perhaps you might end in another timeline ․ ․ ․  unless you’re up for that kind of research ?   ’

[estaim-blog1]

:eyes: bestie ?

   :eyes: bestie !!!!!

[estaim-blog1]

" you should rest ... "

   maybe so.

   and years ago,  he would have considered it.  decades,  even listened.  hope doesn’t pride himself in being transparent,  but the wind whistling around serves only to lull him further,  farther,  behind her.  the steps digging don’t follow a rhythm,  but they’re consistent enough for the pattern to daze him.  even then,  the precision of her perception is as comforting as it is unsettling,  and his hands don’t know how to take it without fidgeting. 

   ‘   i promised i’d take you to scout the area first thing in the morning,   ’   it’s no use,  forcing his voice firmer or blinking less.   ‘   i should be fine———  you’re kind,  lulu.   ’

[estaim-blog1]

[estaim-blog1]

thalxssas  ̖́-

[ 💖 | @estaim ]

     ❛ THEY’RE CALLED HEARTLESS. ❜ it was an explanation that she was getting used to, though she wished she didn’t have to. explaining how they could take people’s hearts and turn them into heartless never got her a good REACTION out of anyone. on this world, however, where there were already so many things that someone could end up in a fight with, it was a good way to make a distinction. 

     ❛ it’s part of my training to go to different places––––.❜ at least, she’d managed to stop tripping up and ACCIDENTALLY say worlds, now, ❛ and help them deal with the heartless there. ❜ 

     it was the simplest explanation without diving into talking about xehanort and the war and the princesses of heart, and it did her well until she had a need to EXPLAIN anything else.

   heartless ․ ․ ․  it’s the name that unsettles him,  not so much the bright yellow eyes or clumsy combat.  hope listens intently,  twirls the airwing here and there,  wonders what kind of places she visits.   ‘   what are you training for ?   ’   he supposes it’s not  prying  if she’s willing to talk about it,  but he does attempt to hold back on the inquiries.  at least until he’s sure she’s fine with him asking.

   ‘   i’m,  uh,  trying to find my way through this place.  if you need any help taking them down,  i could be of use for now ․ ․ ․   ’   considering his next words carefully,  quietly,  he begins again.   ‘   ․ ․ ․ you can call me hope.   ’

[estaim-blog1]

boldplan  ̖́-

                                ❛    o - oh,   i’m sorry …   it’s just –   you looked like you could use a bit of help!   ❜          

*   @estaim     /          starter call .

   ‘   it’s fine !  you just startled me,  that’s all.  i might,  actually———  have you seen a photo flying around ?  the wind stole it from me.   ’

[estaim-blog1]

hi........dont mind me

[estaim-blog1]

unveiles‌  ̖́-

“  like the outfit ?  ”  he’s wearing circle sunglasses and a button up floral shirt that makes him look like a mafia member.  “  i’m undercover.  ”  no he’s not.   /  @estaim​

   ‘   undercover,   ’   he echoes after giving him a good glance over,  the stark contrast of his usual leather replaced with floral print leaves hope a bit ․ ․ ․  taken back.  in the good way.  it's nice on him !   ‘   i would’ve never taken you for the flower type———  undercover for what,  if i may ask ?  vacations ?   ’

[estaim-blog1]

shellsheart  ̖́-

      ACT FIRST, THINK LATER. The puppet didn’t even think twice before jumping to his rescue. She knows how dangerous the Heartless can be, she didn’t want him to die or lose his heart. Even as a nobody, she cares about real people. ❝ I’m Xion. What about you? ❞ She shyly scratches the back of her head as she wiggles on her feet; hoping that the stranger isn’t too mad at her for interfering with his private business. ❝  What is that? It looks so cool! ❞ Xion suddenly shouts as she notices his strange weapon; pointing at it like a child. She doesn’t know what it is but she can’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. It looks so freaking dope!

   she seems ․ ․ ․  harmless enough.  he can grasp that notion by the way she carries herself;  the tense body language and inviting tone makes up for a genuine-hearted stranger,  he believes.   ‘    ․ ․ ․ hope.  my name’s hope.   ’   finally,  he replies,  a bit more eased.   ‘   oh———  you mean this ?  it’s called an  airwing.  in other words, a boomerang,  i guess !   ’   it’s kind of contagious,  the amused energy she irradiates.  he lifts it for easier appreciation,  then lowers it the moment he finally pays attention to her own.   ‘   huh,  what is that ??  a key ?   ’

[estaim-blog1]

ahem

[estaim-blog1]

punches him lovingly tho bc he a sweet ~

   hope has been blessed !

[estaim-blog1]

   being awake for a full 24 - hours never goes unpunished,  hope realizes when he spills coffee all over his hands,  some getting on his polished uniform.  the breath he sighs is shaky,  partly from the scorching  (  not to mention wasted  )  drink burning him,  mostly from the stress.  he thinks it’s the universe plotting against him when he sees stella walk in,  and now he’s plain embarrassed.   ‘   a - ah,  good morning,  miss fleuret,   ’   his hands stutter for something to wipe himself on.   ‘   i apologize you had to witness this mess,   ’   hope isn’t sure if he should apologize,  but he does it anyway.   @stellaux  ♡  ’  ed.

[estaim-blog1]

#help him