( only half the fretting originates from a sparsely proven but continual inclination of dread, and the weird codependent reliance she's had on natsuno since they pillaged friday's desk together their very first week on board the ship. in it for the long haul, regularly bending heads, first on each other's speed dials when things went tits up or new information was dug up.
the other half is based entirely on how similar this is to when bellamy blake had disappeared. it'd started the same: his comfortable place at her side suddenly a vacant void, no response to her texts, not in his room when she'd gone calling... and all of that, for better or for worse, clarke had weathered alone. had only recently brought it up in conversation the night before the zombies converged on them, then again to gal friday who'd more or less assured her that while gone, bellamy's soul was still around; in the walls, serving drinks, cleaning up blood. that it'd been painless and he didn't feel anything anymore. and that'd hurt so incredibly badly — knowing he was there, and there was nothing she could do to help him — and when thought of natsuno experiencing the same thing poked it's unwelcome head into her panicked thoughts, she'd been set on a surefire spiral of losing it.
so, yes. lots of fretting.
and much appreciation for when it isn't directly called out or debated (rita). mizuki's all action and ready for it; she watches him occasionally, and hears the grating shift of game systems across carpet as they're moved. for her part, she's investigating the games that feature curtained booths, and even jumping up and down while craning her neck to see if he's somehow secreted himself on top of the systems just out of line of sight. then she's headed to the teen lounge with all it's couches and coffee tables, which is an immediately apparent waste of time.
so, tentacle deep in some plastic balls is when they'll inevitably reconvene. clarke drawing up to mizuki's shoulder, trying her hardest not to sound weepingly defeated and no longer even giving his extra appendages a second look, she's seen them so often now. )
no subject
the other half is based entirely on how similar this is to when bellamy blake had disappeared. it'd started the same: his comfortable place at her side suddenly a vacant void, no response to her texts, not in his room when she'd gone calling... and all of that, for better or for worse, clarke had weathered alone. had only recently brought it up in conversation the night before the zombies converged on them, then again to gal friday who'd more or less assured her that while gone, bellamy's soul was still around; in the walls, serving drinks, cleaning up blood. that it'd been painless and he didn't feel anything anymore. and that'd hurt so incredibly badly — knowing he was there, and there was nothing she could do to help him — and when thought of natsuno experiencing the same thing poked it's unwelcome head into her panicked thoughts, she'd been set on a surefire spiral of losing it.
so, yes. lots of fretting.
and much appreciation for when it isn't directly called out or debated (rita). mizuki's all action and ready for it; she watches him occasionally, and hears the grating shift of game systems across carpet as they're moved. for her part, she's investigating the games that feature curtained booths, and even jumping up and down while craning her neck to see if he's somehow secreted himself on top of the systems just out of line of sight. then she's headed to the teen lounge with all it's couches and coffee tables, which is an immediately apparent waste of time.
so, tentacle deep in some plastic balls is when they'll inevitably reconvene. clarke drawing up to mizuki's shoulder, trying her hardest not to sound weepingly defeated and no longer even giving his extra appendages a second look, she's seen them so often now. )
Anything?