Day 2 - Texture
A gloved hand fists tight in their hair, claws scratching against their scalp. By that grasp, it pulls their slack head back, showing the line of their jaw. There's a moment of pause, of examination, but not content, it keeps tilting their head from side to side, up and down. Rotating it until bones protest.
Even that is not enough. Tilting their chin up again, another talon pokes sharply at cheekbones, scrapes along the line of their lip. Pokes their nostrils, and tugs at them as if they weren't tender flesh. Little stings linger in its wake.
It's as slow as moving through deep mud, but after some effort, they groggily get their throat to growl a low complaint.
Adorable." A distorted voice says, mockingly. "Are you a hero, or the monster they slay? Those of Eorzea may call you the first, but what I have seen so far leans more towards the latter…" The voice trails off, and their head is pulled sharply back again. "And yet, something of the lines of your face….. What is this dissonance…"
Another pause, longer this time. Absent of change, the Warrior starts to sink back down into murky unconsciousness, even through the uncomfortable position.
Eventually, there's a distant sigh. "This brings me nowhere…"
Abruptly, they're released, falling and hitting solid floor. A pained sound rumbles, dies in their throat, but even that is distant.
