☕
my muse is touch-starved as fuck.accepting selectively!
☕ - reassuring touch, gripping their shoulder.
SERAPHINA FLINCHES by immediate instinct, and in her solitude and following lack of touch, her nerves are set to shock when they are touched, always, always, expecting some kind of harm. but when the pain doesn’t come, the emerald witch is now only hyperaware of the steady grip with which the dread wolf holds her shoulder, and by some small miracle, she doesn’t recoil. muscles are tense, but they remain steady – like a beaten dog learning how not to bite when approached.
‘ sometimes i think that i was meant for the world before the veil, ’ she says at length, features as inscrutable as ever save for the distant glaze clouding her vision. ‘ i am sorry i won’t see that world when it comes to rise again. ’
