[Wren jerks her head back upon hearing the new (in a manner of speaking) voice, but only for a second, as Izunia's frenzied panic response keeps her concern. She wants to say something, but doesn't know what, because really, she still has little idea what precisely is going on in this scene beyond the obvious.
Against her better judgment, she takes a second look up towards the stage — and the ill feeling in her gut solidifies into a hard, heavy stone at the sight of the man hanging limply from the noose. In the back of her mind, she recalls a suggestion Robin jokingly relayed to her about color-coordinated clothing, and then the sketch Izunia showed her, featuring a young man his own spitting image...
She turns back to him just in time to lock eyes, looking rather aghast herself.]
no subject
Against her better judgment, she takes a second look up towards the stage — and the ill feeling in her gut solidifies into a hard, heavy stone at the sight of the man hanging limply from the noose. In the back of her mind, she recalls a suggestion Robin jokingly relayed to her about color-coordinated clothing, and then the sketch Izunia showed her, featuring a young man his own spitting image...
She turns back to him just in time to lock eyes, looking rather aghast herself.]
Izunia, what...?