ralsei deserves to get meaner

suddenly... her hands are everywhere...?

her hands help when she wants them to and clench when she doesn't

her hands twine with kris', guiding them both through a puzzle she would've ordinarily waited to see solved first

her hands push flowery away

they swat at him, also!

her fingers pluck up the drink vouchers, eyes gleaming at her favorite among them

they help themselves to a bit of cheese, purely on a whim of taste

her palms cast an offensive spell for susie, instinct overriding a lifetime of learned passivity

and... loveliest of all... her hands fall naturally to her sides. loose and comfortable. tasked with nothing whatsoever, only where they happen to be.

in the wake of it all, ralsei kneels by the water, palms pressed together, praying like begging, begging like praying - doggedly convinced this is the far shore of who she can be.

and if the water answers at all, it does so with a reflection. one whose hands protected and defied. the change plain to any with eyes.

…you'd think a prophecy would know a better knot than that, wouldn't you?

ralsei's none the wiser. ask her, and she'd vehemently insist she can't alter a thing - least of all herself. but why ask at all? just take a gander at those mitts; they tell you plenty.