[Her eyes flick to those pale fingers, thin layers of flesh peeled back by uneven nail and a caged-up pick, scrape, claw. His hands are nothing like hers, of course; but Caitlyn is reminded that she herself typically wears gloves, and half-wonders if he’d take one if it was offered.
[No one likes to be stared raw. She pries her eyes away, nothing keeping them in place.
[Nothing at all.]
Has it… always been like this. [Half to herself. It’s dreamlike here.]
are we limboversing this… (+cw gore… imagery…?)
[Her eyes flick to those pale fingers, thin layers of flesh peeled back by uneven nail and a caged-up pick, scrape, claw. His hands are nothing like hers, of course; but Caitlyn is reminded that she herself typically wears gloves, and half-wonders if he’d take one if it was offered.
[No one likes to be stared raw. She pries her eyes away, nothing keeping them in place.
[Nothing at all.]
Has it… always been like this. [Half to herself. It’s dreamlike here.]