#selfembodiment 01.

"It's silly, but something about your face...reminds me of home, a little bit."

If she were anyone else, it might sound like flirting: she's not trying to, really, instead thinking of a battered toy that had clunked down the stairs with her and had faced quite a few repairs (the seams and mendmarks not so dissimilar from her companion's scars).

Then again, she herself had come back from said incident matching with that little treasure; her own facial scar is the most obvious of the survival markers, but underneath her hair are the marks where her skull had briefly cracked, and a line along the back of her neck (the whole wardrobe's a veil, really).

"Something I treasure very much was mended in the same way as it seems you or I were taken care of."

"I can get down just fine! I did this all the time back home, as unbecoming as it may be."

She can't tell if her captive audience of one is amused or concerned, but he's certainly staring -- she intends to prove her point, carefully sidling down the building she'd managed to scarper her way atop (she'd crossed from a few buildings over, actually, so maybe he'd seen all of that).

Even away from home, a building is a building and a roof is a roof, and Richia's spend her life honing her body as a tool to traverse them all like they're just a paved road for her. Why should she stop because this place is new? If anything, Richia should make herself accustomed to this place's buildings, too.

"See? It was hardly a problem at all."