These stupid wings...s-so now you see, right? Why people would be uncomfortable?
[It's strange, so strange. It's not even like she's ashamed of the scars, and she wasn't afraid to show them to Rohan and Koichi. But things are different now, aren't they? Back home, these scars were the hallmark of who she was, the defining characteristic of the guardian angel of Morioh. Now that she's here in outer space, and trying so hard to live the life that was stolen from her back then...maybe for that Reimi, the girl she's trying to be, these scars are out of place and a burden.
She's not expecting the contact of his fingers, warm and calloused and so light. It startles her enough that she has to suck in a shallow breath, jumping just barely in her surprise. But he doesn't stop; he doesn't flinch back himself, or pull away like he's been burned. He's not repulsed by what he sees; just the opposite, he reached out to touch them.
She wonders if Mista knows just how much that means, just how deeply significant that one small thing he'd done really is. These scars don't make her untouchable; he'd proved that to her, just now. She hadn't even realized she needed to have that confirmation, but now that she does, she can't imagine what she would've done without it.]
Mista...
[His name escapes her soft, halfway between a whimper and a cry, and as she turns back around to face him, she all but falls into his arms, wanting so desperately to be held.]
no subject
[It's strange, so strange. It's not even like she's ashamed of the scars, and she wasn't afraid to show them to Rohan and Koichi. But things are different now, aren't they? Back home, these scars were the hallmark of who she was, the defining characteristic of the guardian angel of Morioh. Now that she's here in outer space, and trying so hard to live the life that was stolen from her back then...maybe for that Reimi, the girl she's trying to be, these scars are out of place and a burden.
She's not expecting the contact of his fingers, warm and calloused and so light. It startles her enough that she has to suck in a shallow breath, jumping just barely in her surprise. But he doesn't stop; he doesn't flinch back himself, or pull away like he's been burned. He's not repulsed by what he sees; just the opposite, he reached out to touch them.
She wonders if Mista knows just how much that means, just how deeply significant that one small thing he'd done really is. These scars don't make her untouchable; he'd proved that to her, just now. She hadn't even realized she needed to have that confirmation, but now that she does, she can't imagine what she would've done without it.]
Mista...
[His name escapes her soft, halfway between a whimper and a cry, and as she turns back around to face him, she all but falls into his arms, wanting so desperately to be held.]