[The screen fizzles for a moment, then shows an image of a young girl who is clearly distressed. A faint meowing can be heard in the background, as do muted rustles as the source of the said sound walks around the room off-screen.]
Hey, so this app I was playing suddenly crashed... And then this happened.
[She shows her the back of her forearm, which has a long gash that cuts across her sleeve.]
It doesn't hurt, [she tries to smile, though the way her lips are pursed betray her true feelings on the matter,] but I know it's not good to leave it like this, so... does anyone have something I can put on it?
[four;]
[Elle, like any typical eight-year-old girl, loves dolls, but there's just something about the ones around this house that scares her, creeps her out, makes her not want to touch anything.
Her anxiety gets worse late in the night, when she curls up in a corner of the room, close to Rollo for warmth and comfort. Sleep escapes her as she hears the suspicious pitter patter of feet, and she couldn't anymore distinguish if it is her imagination playing tricks on her or consider the case where her companion is just messing with her.]
I-I'm not scared... I'm not scared...
[It's a mantra she's been repeating to herself ever since she got to this place, though however helpful or convincing it is, well, is something more or less up in the air as she brings her feet closer to her chest as she hugs herself, shivering all the while.]
Elle Mel Marta | Tales of Xillia 2
[The screen fizzles for a moment, then shows an image of a young girl who is clearly distressed. A faint meowing can be heard in the background, as do muted rustles as the source of the said sound walks around the room off-screen.]
Hey, so this app I was playing suddenly crashed... And then this happened.
[She shows her the back of her forearm, which has a long gash that cuts across her sleeve.]
It doesn't hurt, [she tries to smile, though the way her lips are pursed betray her true feelings on the matter,] but I know it's not good to leave it like this, so... does anyone have something I can put on it?
[four;]
[Elle, like any typical eight-year-old girl, loves dolls, but there's just something about the ones around this house that scares her, creeps her out, makes her not want to touch anything.
Her anxiety gets worse late in the night, when she curls up in a corner of the room, close to Rollo for warmth and comfort. Sleep escapes her as she hears the suspicious pitter patter of feet, and she couldn't anymore distinguish if it is her imagination playing tricks on her or consider the case where her companion is just messing with her.]
I-I'm not scared... I'm not scared...
[It's a mantra she's been repeating to herself ever since she got to this place, though however helpful or convincing it is, well, is something more or less up in the air as she brings her feet closer to her chest as she hugs herself, shivering all the while.]