He looks an absolute mess, cheeks tear streaked and one side of his face smarting from where Mikazuki had punched him. At first he barely hears Yamagi and it takes him a moment to even process that he's being spoken to. He doesn't even have it in him to do much other than shake his head no.]
[It's a habit by now. Yamagi knows better than to ask, but the words are part courtesy, part instinct. They're the same size when he crouches next to him, two sets of slender shoulders and weary backs, a small hand on one of them now.]
Who's dead?
[The blunt words are only softened by the evident concern in his voice. He's seen Ride break down one too many times before the sobs had dried his throat and the pain hardened his eyes. Kindness hadn't gotten to him back then, but there's not much else Yamagi can offer.]
[So it's come to that. Yamagi's surprise is tempered with the familiarity of Slaine's grief and the painful predictability of his reaction. Considering where they are, he can guess who the boy's turned to for solace, an unwitting knife twisting in his guts. For now, he risks an arm around Slaine's slender shoulders, his muscles pressed against the tremors there.]
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He looks an absolute mess, cheeks tear streaked and one side of his face smarting from where Mikazuki had punched him. At first he barely hears Yamagi and it takes him a moment to even process that he's being spoken to. He doesn't even have it in him to do much other than shake his head no.]
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Who's dead?
[The blunt words are only softened by the evident concern in his voice. He's seen Ride break down one too many times before the sobs had dried his throat and the pain hardened his eyes. Kindness hadn't gotten to him back then, but there's not much else Yamagi can offer.]
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L-Lady Yona...
[That one utterance alone should speak volumes.]
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I'm sorry, Slaine. She didn't deserve this.