[ there’s the smallest sound from the back of his throat, as if the fleeting thought of protest had been given an instant to make itself heard. surprise should not be his reaction here, however, and the self-reminder is enough to make his throat close again with the silence of repression as much as a physical lack of words.
he curls his fingers in and withdraws his hand to his chest, holding it now against his sternum like he can physically grasp the offer for safe-keeping. ]
…
[ a meaningful silence, as he thinks. none of them have any possessions. they’ve all been stripped of the physical signs of the worlds they left behind. except, that is, their bodies. even knowing it’s utterly inscrutable, he wants to give some kind of assurance that will make an impact.
so, with his other hand, he plucks a strand of hair from his head, wincing as he does. it’s a gift, albeit what he imagines is kind of an unwelcome one. ]
no subject
he curls his fingers in and withdraws his hand to his chest, holding it now against his sternum like he can physically grasp the offer for safe-keeping. ]
…
[ a meaningful silence, as he thinks. none of them have any possessions. they’ve all been stripped of the physical signs of the worlds they left behind. except, that is, their bodies. even knowing it’s utterly inscrutable, he wants to give some kind of assurance that will make an impact.
so, with his other hand, he plucks a strand of hair from his head, wincing as he does. it’s a gift, albeit what he imagines is kind of an unwelcome one. ]