For her part, she hesitates as well; when she reaches out her gloveless hand, it is not in the manner of one seizing a lifeline, but anticipating a smack with a ruler or at least an examination. Nevertheless she takes comfort in the warmth of Moiraine's skin on hers; delicate hand in delicate hand, pale brown skin on pale pink.
Something in her chest that's wordless and primal, very much a part of the meat she controls so unkindly and not the trapped and angry mind above, takes comfort. The body remembers, as well as the mind, and it lays this memory in a pathetically thin file of such comforts. Crux's rough old man hands leading her gently through the caverns of the Ninth when she was most lost. The illusion of the Body's cold hand when she was most alone. Most buried and most cherished, her father's firm hand, flinching from her even then but still supporting, as she took her earliest teetering steps alongside a construct's.
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Date: 2020-10-12 01:50 pm (UTC)Something in her chest that's wordless and primal, very much a part of the meat she controls so unkindly and not the trapped and angry mind above, takes comfort. The body remembers, as well as the mind, and it lays this memory in a pathetically thin file of such comforts. Crux's rough old man hands leading her gently through the caverns of the Ninth when she was most lost. The illusion of the Body's cold hand when she was most alone. Most buried and most cherished, her father's firm hand, flinching from her even then but still supporting, as she took her earliest teetering steps alongside a construct's.