KIADA
your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth;
that you are ruined
The purr is a welcome relief to the tension she can feel within him. And honestly, she understands as well. He can try to hide it as much as he’d like to, but she can see through whatever mask he tries to use to hide behind – because she wears the same one after so long. Still, she’s thankful when that goofy grin curves his lips, when the pang of his understanding and the weight of the grief begins to shift toward something different. Something full of gratitude, and then suddenly something affectionate that resonates a resounding purr from her throat as well.
But then he almost becomes bashful, and there’s some small part of amusement she keeps to herself with it as he pulls away and apologizes. And there’s a number of things that Kiada could do – she could ignore it, she could reply back audibly, or… Or.
She listens to what he says, finding the humor within and sending back a pulse of amusement toward him to try and alleviate the edge of whatever he might be feeling, before she moves to stand, to brush against him in her feline form once more before she sits at his side and shifts back into herself – her very human self, aiming to reach up and run her hands through his spotted fur. I remember. She tells him, flashing him a quiet grin, flashing him a hint of that similar affection back toward him and keeping the rest of herself hidden away.
Perhaps it’s better if he didn’t know about her past anyway, of all the red that stained her hands.
When I was born I had magic. It was a fire that erupted from my spine, and it would take different shapes depending on my emotions. She explains, tilting her head toward him with that same quiet smile gracing her face. I learned early on that people could read me like an open book. So I tried to hide them or mask them. I know the pride thing quite intimately well.
But then he almost becomes bashful, and there’s some small part of amusement she keeps to herself with it as he pulls away and apologizes. And there’s a number of things that Kiada could do – she could ignore it, she could reply back audibly, or… Or.
She listens to what he says, finding the humor within and sending back a pulse of amusement toward him to try and alleviate the edge of whatever he might be feeling, before she moves to stand, to brush against him in her feline form once more before she sits at his side and shifts back into herself – her very human self, aiming to reach up and run her hands through his spotted fur. I remember. She tells him, flashing him a quiet grin, flashing him a hint of that similar affection back toward him and keeping the rest of herself hidden away.
Perhaps it’s better if he didn’t know about her past anyway, of all the red that stained her hands.
When I was born I had magic. It was a fire that erupted from my spine, and it would take different shapes depending on my emotions. She explains, tilting her head toward him with that same quiet smile gracing her face. I learned early on that people could read me like an open book. So I tried to hide them or mask them. I know the pride thing quite intimately well.
and you wonder why he lets you,
the butcher
touch him
the sun
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
