[ it seems as if her greeting has done nothing to placate the malboro, instead it only serves to give the monster a sense of where to stretch it’s vines, a direction to where it needs to strike. she’s pulled up by shiro, but doesn’t look his direction ( eyes still glued to the malboro as it opens it’s mouth and a ball of green smog starts to accumulate in it’s maw ) until he speaks. ] I-I understand! [ it’s not too difficult of a direction, grab onto him, but still she fumbles. grasps fruitlessly at the smooth plates of his armor, until she finds an edge to curl her fingers around. ]
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