[ What is there to say, after a nightmare like that? Naminé knows she's not in any position to speak up, no matter how plainly she recognized the author of the dream from the very beginning. Despite the depth of her awareness, admitting as much to Vanitas himself - that she was familiar with his existence before their paths ever crossed, that she has some inkling of what he's been through - seems as though it would do more harm than good. It doesn't take much for her to imagine how displeased he probably is to have shared this much by accident as it is; he's never seemed the sort who's willing to open up to strangers. Or to people who aren't strangers, for that matter, and Naminé doesn't count herself as much more than one, from his perspective.
But she can't just roll over and go back to sleep as if nothing happened. Still clutching her lantern, the dim glow illuminating her frowning face in the dark, she hesitates.
When her message finally comes, it's a little later than the others. If she expressed her sympathies in as many words, she suspects they would meet with rejection, much less do any good - so there are no words. Instead, there's only a single line, gradually forming into a circle. Then, more circles, contained with in the first. Lines patiently begin to divide them into smaller, neat portions that are as close to regular as she can manage.
Sender: Naminé
But she can't just roll over and go back to sleep as if nothing happened. Still clutching her lantern, the dim glow illuminating her frowning face in the dark, she hesitates.
When her message finally comes, it's a little later than the others. If she expressed her sympathies in as many words, she suspects they would meet with rejection, much less do any good - so there are no words. Instead, there's only a single line, gradually forming into a circle. Then, more circles, contained with in the first. Lines patiently begin to divide them into smaller, neat portions that are as close to regular as she can manage.
Is she... drawing a Station platform? ]