[Almost every day since it went up, Soma has spent at least a few minutes contemplating the plates on the wall. Watching the names of fellow inmates appear is difficult, and the addition of six after Oda's execution is such a bitter pill to swallow. He sees Pyrrha putting up six more and his heart sinks, certain that five of them are the reasons Oda slaughtered so many of their own.
He hasn't seen the redheaded girl since therapy on Tuesday. He kept his head down. Hopefully she didn't see beneath the makeshift headband he'd worn low on his brow, shadowing his eyes. He still has it on now, and he can use the same excuse he used at therapy provided no one calls him out: light sensitivity from a migraine.
He has two plates in his hands. Carefully he hangs them off to one side, out of the way, his own private memorial for two women he knows without having ever met them.
ELSBTHA LISA
He bows his head, silently shaping a prayer for their souls in his thoughts.]
I'm tired of all this death, Pyrrha. And Friday's coming again.
Memorial Wall
He hasn't seen the redheaded girl since therapy on Tuesday. He kept his head down. Hopefully she didn't see beneath the makeshift headband he'd worn low on his brow, shadowing his eyes. He still has it on now, and he can use the same excuse he used at therapy provided no one calls him out: light sensitivity from a migraine.
He has two plates in his hands. Carefully he hangs them off to one side, out of the way, his own private memorial for two women he knows without having ever met them.
LISA
He bows his head, silently shaping a prayer for their souls in his thoughts.]
I'm tired of all this death, Pyrrha. And Friday's coming again.