No answer. The lonesome figure hovered, the hair suspended in time – it seemed all around stopped. A mild dark glow associated with chaos bubbled. "-Gophy, answer me," he called, stretching his arm to a sudden jolt.
"Igna," returned a featureless oval shape – there laid nothing upon where Gophy's expression would rest, nothing. A simple dark tone veiled an echo of her voice. The fleeting moment, '-don't tell me,' a similarly expressionless mien cemented, the arms crossed and the stance harshened. "-Are you leaving?"
"Yeah," the voice turned from surround to single file as such to make a relatable discussion, "-I'm leaving."
"Am I talking to Gophy or her shadow?"
"No, you're talking to me," she said, "-I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," he said, "-the symbol of Chaos' been bestowed upon my palm. Gophy, I don't understand why?"