[ There's more than the hoodie stained with black tar that tells her that something isn't right. It isn't like Ninety-Nine to carry her with one arm when both are free, even if she hardly needs both to support Hella's weight. It's about the security of it, so long as she's not carrying anything else. There's her Mania, too — Sinners can discern changes in it more clearly than a regular person, who simply feels overwhelmed by feeling the tiniest amount.
All signs... point in a direction she doesn't like.
Hella is silent as Ninety-Nine puts her down, going willingly — perhaps even passively, instead of hopping down like she usually might. Her expression is hard to read, perhaps especially so for Ninety-Nine, who has a difficult time recognizing nuanced feelings in most other people outside of Hella. She looks... like she's holding something back, which she never does, especially in front of her companion. ]
You can't swim either, dummy.
[ They're both just mice that happened to escape the cage. She huffs, eyes looking ahead at the unending congestion of cars. It's not that she wants to be in a bad mood or make Ninety-Nine feel like this is her fault... but she doesn't know how to confront the conflict in her heart. There's a dread that hangs over her that she's never felt before — not even when Ninety-Nine had been packed away for her execution. Back then, she'd been confident she could at least do something.
Now, she's not sure if there's anything she can do to slow the wheel of fate. All Sinners will become Corruptors eventually, it's just a matter of when. And Ninety-Nine's time seems to be approaching more and more swiftly. She lingers close to Ninety-Nine's side, but she shoves her free hand in her pocket, the other holding her pipe at her side. After a long pause: ]
...You're trying to get rid of me again.
[ An accusation like that from Hella could be playful, in different times. But here, she sounds far too sure, and far too somber for it to be anywhere near funny. ]
sniffles
All signs... point in a direction she doesn't like.
Hella is silent as Ninety-Nine puts her down, going willingly — perhaps even passively, instead of hopping down like she usually might. Her expression is hard to read, perhaps especially so for Ninety-Nine, who has a difficult time recognizing nuanced feelings in most other people outside of Hella. She looks... like she's holding something back, which she never does, especially in front of her companion. ]
You can't swim either, dummy.
[ They're both just mice that happened to escape the cage. She huffs, eyes looking ahead at the unending congestion of cars. It's not that she wants to be in a bad mood or make Ninety-Nine feel like this is her fault... but she doesn't know how to confront the conflict in her heart. There's a dread that hangs over her that she's never felt before — not even when Ninety-Nine had been packed away for her execution. Back then, she'd been confident she could at least do something.
Now, she's not sure if there's anything she can do to slow the wheel of fate. All Sinners will become Corruptors eventually, it's just a matter of when. And Ninety-Nine's time seems to be approaching more and more swiftly. She lingers close to Ninety-Nine's side, but she shoves her free hand in her pocket, the other holding her pipe at her side. After a long pause: ]
...You're trying to get rid of me again.
[ An accusation like that from Hella could be playful, in different times. But here, she sounds far too sure, and far too somber for it to be anywhere near funny. ]