[ Gray's eyes tighten, her throat clenching. She could start crying again. Out of old grief, longing, nostalgia, and unexpectedly, a thread of hope. Flat is only one mage, but one so extraordinary that the word "impossible" only becomes "improbable" in his presence. When he speaks of an El-Melloi Classroom 2.0, she can believe in it. When he speaks of everyone waiting for their return, she can begin to see it -- someday, somehow.
In lieu of speaking, which she fears will pulverize an already broken dam, she only nods. And then she reaches for Flat's wrist so that she can start to pull him away from the crowd. If people were giving Flat dirty looks before, they're only getting filthier the longer he and Gray talk over Cyrus's speech.
But then she pauses. As she reaches for Flat's wrist, she sees it: even if it's an unfamiliar shape, it's unmistakably a set of Command Spells. ]
no subject
In lieu of speaking, which she fears will pulverize an already broken dam, she only nods. And then she reaches for Flat's wrist so that she can start to pull him away from the crowd. If people were giving Flat dirty looks before, they're only getting filthier the longer he and Gray talk over Cyrus's speech.
But then she pauses. As she reaches for Flat's wrist, she sees it: even if it's an unfamiliar shape, it's unmistakably a set of Command Spells. ]
F-Flat. This is...