[ Miyako doesn't immediately respond - forgoes doing so. She hadn't really smiled this entire conversation, but her mouth does a noticeable quiver, turns into a frown. The bird, Hawkmon, notices his partner's expression and narrows his eyes looking down.
The man is wrong she knows, with a breath, resting a hand against her heart. There are some pains you don't forget. Some pains that ache even in the ethereal feeling of a dream. It's not just her family she thinks of - her friends, the many chosen children across the world, the Digimon and the Digital World. She's known and seen much and feels the weight of the dream crushing her heart. ]
Mm.
[ Her response is quiet. If it had been someone who knew her, that'd be a cause for a concern. But right now she (they're) alone with a stranger in a dream that feels more than a dream. Fate? Destiny? ]
It feels real. [ She picks up her voice again, though it wavers. Her mind whirls in its way, over-thinking and panic-inducing. She tries to focus lest it grip her and it's only the pain that sinks deeper and deeper, like stones to the pit of her stomach, that keeps here there: ]
I think we are supposed to choose — [ Because they're both pulling right? As if they're trying to tell her different things - stretching her until she pulls apart. The darkness creeps with its understanding of her despair, her self-hatred (though she refuses to put a name on it). And the light calls of bonds and life, it's warmth familiar. It reminds her of a friend. ]
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The man is wrong she knows, with a breath, resting a hand against her heart. There are some pains you don't forget. Some pains that ache even in the ethereal feeling of a dream. It's not just her family she thinks of - her friends, the many chosen children across the world, the Digimon and the Digital World. She's known and seen much and feels the weight of the dream crushing her heart. ]
Mm.
[ Her response is quiet. If it had been someone who knew her, that'd be a cause for a concern. But right now she (they're) alone with a stranger in a dream that feels more than a dream. Fate? Destiny? ]
It feels real. [ She picks up her voice again, though it wavers. Her mind whirls in its way, over-thinking and panic-inducing. She tries to focus lest it grip her and it's only the pain that sinks deeper and deeper, like stones to the pit of her stomach, that keeps here there: ]
I think we are supposed to choose — [ Because they're both pulling right? As if they're trying to tell her different things - stretching her until she pulls apart. The darkness creeps with its understanding of her despair, her self-hatred (though she refuses to put a name on it). And the light calls of bonds and life, it's warmth familiar. It reminds her of a friend. ]
But I... It feels wrong.