[ On the upside, were he to truly meet his demise, all Rodion would need to do is alert Dante to Yi Sang's condition. But it's for the best that he's still alive and well, as Yi Sang would feel even worse about troubling their Manager.
Yi Sang attempts to return Rodion's warm expression, though it comes across as sheepish due to the more severe pallor of his face and darker circles under each eye. He studies the glass jar for a moment before canting his head a bit to the side. They'd been at sea for a little while without any opportunities to procure anything extraneous like ginger candies. ]
I see. I welcome any remedy that would lessen the burden my condition places upon you and the others.
[ It seems he hasn't learned how to thank others properly just yet. Nevertheless, he carefully takes the small jar into his hands as though he were handling something terribly fragile. It's a gift from one of his colleagues; it deserves to be held carefully. He tucks it into his pocket for now before surveying his own room.
It's mostly bare, save for a few items like a bed and a wooden work bench, complete with a matching chair. Upon the work bench is a vase with a single spicebush branch, yellow petals cheerful against the muted colors of the room. Beside the vase is a black notebook with a pen, and next to that is what appears to be a single steamed potato half wrapped in brown paper.
There's a large rectangular object standing in the corner covered in a white sheet. A small pile of reflective shards are gathered nearby like an unfinished puzzle. Nine empty photo frames are mounted on one wall, and on the wall facing it are another twelve frames.
The wood paneling of the floor gives it a cozy feel, but the air smells unnaturally sterile while the walls are a stark white, a lingering trait from that square within a square, within a square, within a square. The temperature is neither too warm nor too cool, as though perfectly controlled to remain at the same degree.
It's silent, save for the very faint pitter-patter of falling rain.
Yi Sang wanders to the workbench, dragging the chair across the room towards his bed. It makes a terrible sound as it scrapes against the floor. There's nowhere else to sit, as he rarely anticipates guests, but he can offer her this much. And with that invitation, he returns to sit on his bed, withdrawing the jar of ginger candies from his pocket.
He'd left his door open though just in case Rodion had no intention to stay awhile. ]
no subject
Yi Sang attempts to return Rodion's warm expression, though it comes across as sheepish due to the more severe pallor of his face and darker circles under each eye. He studies the glass jar for a moment before canting his head a bit to the side. They'd been at sea for a little while without any opportunities to procure anything extraneous like ginger candies. ]
I see. I welcome any remedy that would lessen the burden my condition places upon you and the others.
[ It seems he hasn't learned how to thank others properly just yet. Nevertheless, he carefully takes the small jar into his hands as though he were handling something terribly fragile. It's a gift from one of his colleagues; it deserves to be held carefully. He tucks it into his pocket for now before surveying his own room.
It's mostly bare, save for a few items like a bed and a wooden work bench, complete with a matching chair. Upon the work bench is a vase with a single spicebush branch, yellow petals cheerful against the muted colors of the room. Beside the vase is a black notebook with a pen, and next to that is what appears to be a single steamed potato half wrapped in brown paper.
There's a large rectangular object standing in the corner covered in a white sheet. A small pile of reflective shards are gathered nearby like an unfinished puzzle. Nine empty photo frames are mounted on one wall, and on the wall facing it are another twelve frames.
The wood paneling of the floor gives it a cozy feel, but the air smells unnaturally sterile while the walls are a stark white, a lingering trait from that square within a square, within a square, within a square. The temperature is neither too warm nor too cool, as though perfectly controlled to remain at the same degree.
It's silent, save for the very faint pitter-patter of falling rain.
Yi Sang wanders to the workbench, dragging the chair across the room towards his bed. It makes a terrible sound as it scrapes against the floor. There's nowhere else to sit, as he rarely anticipates guests, but he can offer her this much. And with that invitation, he returns to sit on his bed, withdrawing the jar of ginger candies from his pocket.
He'd left his door open though just in case Rodion had no intention to stay awhile. ]