[ She shrugs a little. Eleven has no concept of how or why that might not be okay - she has a power, and she uses it to watch over her friends, make sure they're okay, make sure they're accounted for.
She also keeps an eye on something in the basement, but she tries not to think about it too much.
The boy though... William.
Eleven remembers making her first friend, less than a year ago. Being offered shelter. Being treated like a person for the first time in her small, isolated little life. ]
Do you want to come here? When it's too loud. Or when you're sad.
[ She took Clint here, when he cried about Natasha. A sad man on the verge of panic in a crowd, and she'd made everything quiet for him for a while. She let Charles in because he asked to see how she sees things in the void. It's her space, and she has no defenses here - but she can make room in the darkness of her mind for others, even just a little bit. ]
[ He's not going to question what that might mean. Maybe some people take comfort in using their own power to see what they can't. If he had a way to find Tommy he would - or maybe his parents. He doesn't vocalize that. ]
[ The girl goes quiet and his attention turns back to her, brows furrowing a little over gray-blue eyes. After a moment, she asks a question, and he has to swallow something back. He can feel the tender, tentativeness. The vulnerability in the air, but the desire to help. ]
[ This time he shakes his head. ]
Thank you, but no.
[ He says it sincerely. ]
It's not that I don't appreciate it, but this is your space. I wasn't meant to find it.
[ The light part is an attempt at some light-heartedness. ] The loud is just something I have to get used to.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I was watching my friends.
[ She shrugs a little. Eleven has no concept of how or why that might not be okay - she has a power, and she uses it to watch over her friends, make sure they're okay, make sure they're accounted for.
She also keeps an eye on something in the basement, but she tries not to think about it too much.
The boy though... William.
Eleven remembers making her first friend, less than a year ago. Being offered shelter. Being treated like a person for the first time in her small, isolated little life. ]
Do you want to come here? When it's too loud. Or when you're sad.
[ She took Clint here, when he cried about Natasha. A sad man on the verge of panic in a crowd, and she'd made everything quiet for him for a while. She let Charles in because he asked to see how she sees things in the void. It's her space, and she has no defenses here - but she can make room in the darkness of her mind for others, even just a little bit. ]
no subject
[ He's not going to question what that might mean. Maybe some people take comfort in using their own power to see what they can't. If he had a way to find Tommy he would - or maybe his parents. He doesn't vocalize that. ]
[ The girl goes quiet and his attention turns back to her, brows furrowing a little over gray-blue eyes. After a moment, she asks a question, and he has to swallow something back. He can feel the tender, tentativeness. The vulnerability in the air, but the desire to help. ]
[ This time he shakes his head. ]
Thank you, but no.
[ He says it sincerely. ]
It's not that I don't appreciate it, but this is your space. I wasn't meant to find it.
[ The light part is an attempt at some light-heartedness. ] The loud is just something I have to get used to.