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Devi Ravi is sitting on the PokéCenter's platform in Togi's treetops, looking down at the shadow-obscured, muddy paths below, elbows rested on her thighs, hands dangling limply from her wrists, slouch marring her usual energetic air. There's a light drizzle playing over the leaves right now, providing a soothing swell to the background noise of foliage in the light breeze.
She'd been to the PokéCenter often, of course, but the cause for today's visit was, of course, unique, and the change made her uneasy and restless, though neither emotion had much chance of wrestling to the forefront of her mind. Instead, she sat there, thinking about Dejan, putting off heading home in favour of raw existence. But it's still home, even here, Togi, that tiny blip on Sehto's map, and the ache isn't greatly reduced just because she's outside her house. Time was supposed to heal all wounds - when was she going to start feeling that effect, exactly?
A young man, perhaps a few years older than Devi, rounds the corner of the PokéCenter, the gentle sound of boots on wooden planks the only warning of his arrival. He's about halfway to the door before he notices Devi, sitting near the platform's edge, gazing down at the ground below. His footsteps slow to a stop a short distance from the door.
He hesitates.
A couple weeks ago, he would've passed by such an odd sight, content to go about his daily business, his concern for others not quite strong enough to overcome his shyness. But then again, a couple weeks ago, his best friend, and that girl's brother, was still alive. A very significant part of him still wants to walk on into the PokéCenter, take care of Jakuth's injuries, and go on with his day as if he'd not seen her here. That part of him wages an inner battle against his concern for her well-being that lasts for almost a minute before finally, barely losing out.
A few moments later, Batsen Reshigah has found a place to sit next to Devi. “Hey,” he offers her in greeting, minimalistic and open-ended. The conversation ball is in her court now; what she does with it is up to her.
For a moment, it seems like she might not have noticed him, staring down at the forest floor a bit longer - the with considerable lag brings her head up to glance at him with casually disaffected air. That's all there is for a further moment, before she nods a greeting, then chains a verbal response onto that: “Hi, Batsen.” The inside of her lower lip finds itself trapped between her teeth, distorting her expression subtly - then it pops free and, perhaps driven by an instinct that didn't want to be confronted with a question like 'How are you holding up?' nor bother the other with the same, she says: “Have you ever…. dreamt of travelling before?” Her tone is casual, but her underlying grief is apparent in her body language, answering the more socially obvious question implicitly: She's not holding up that well.
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