(no subject)

She knows when he approaches. She knows. Of course she would. Tori Stilinski is smart. Too smart, probably. Her head tilts slightly as he approaches, her back towards him. She remains this way as she speaks, knowing she's safe to do so. Even at twelve years old, she's ballsy, so when she addresses him it's without pretense or even the name people used for him. It's with facts.

"My mother is fire. She's quiet and intense passion. You know that as well as I do. She's limitless love and patience and kindness and somehow fury. She's a contradiction." Tori continues on, turning slowly to face him. And still, just as before, more facts.

"My father is determination and stubbornness and an unending love for everyone he considers family. He's silliness and fun and seriousness." She's now facing him, the look on her face one of patience.

"You're not him. You're chaos and riddles and confusion, and I think that's because someone made you suddenly feel unwanted." Another slow, soft tilt of her head, her hands on her hips.

"And somehow, you're me. Or I'm you. Just a tiny bit. I know you, but I've never met you. It's that small part that's you, isn't it? Is that why you're here and my father isn't?"

And, to his credit, the Nogitsune simply smiles.