11-19-2008, 07:23 AM
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Geneva rolled on to her stomach, turning her head to her left. She thought she had heard someone speak, but she wasn't sure if it had been her imagination. She stayed there for a moment before she decided to find the source of the sound. Padding quietly on four feet, she ventured to her left toward a higher ledge. Squinting her lime-green eyes, she made out a form against the twilight. She realized that she was staring at Naniko, outlined in her Optime form like a ghost against the gloom.
She hadn't seen the femme since she had first been accepted into the ranks of Crimson Dreams. Even so, she had only seen her fleetingly. And she had had her daughter, like a miniature clone, with her. Geneva was struck for a moment by how beautiful the Commander was, the stark contrast of her white coat against the darkness. But even more striking was the sadness that seemed to settle around her, an expression that looked almost haunted. She wondered what troubled the white femme's thoughts. It bothered Geneva that her mood so closely mirrored her own, although she did not seem as visibly upset. Geneva wished for her composure, but she did not have much to call on this night.
"N-Naniko?" the femme called up, clearing her throat. "It's Geneva Stockholm, down here."
Geneva rolled on to her stomach, turning her head to her left. She thought she had heard someone speak, but she wasn't sure if it had been her imagination. She stayed there for a moment before she decided to find the source of the sound. Padding quietly on four feet, she ventured to her left toward a higher ledge. Squinting her lime-green eyes, she made out a form against the twilight. She realized that she was staring at Naniko, outlined in her Optime form like a ghost against the gloom.
She hadn't seen the femme since she had first been accepted into the ranks of Crimson Dreams. Even so, she had only seen her fleetingly. And she had had her daughter, like a miniature clone, with her. Geneva was struck for a moment by how beautiful the Commander was, the stark contrast of her white coat against the darkness. But even more striking was the sadness that seemed to settle around her, an expression that looked almost haunted. She wondered what troubled the white femme's thoughts. It bothered Geneva that her mood so closely mirrored her own, although she did not seem as visibly upset. Geneva wished for her composure, but she did not have much to call on this night.
"N-Naniko?" the femme called up, clearing her throat. "It's Geneva Stockholm, down here."