[ Before, at the World's End, she had done it herself. Her hair had been in such an intricate style, aloft like a black butterfly — as she had taken it down, piece by piece, it had been like a waterfall. Now, she is as bedraggled as the rest of them. He can find a stray lock of it falling upon her throat as he reaches up higher, toward the crown of her head. ]
Bend down a little more, to me.
[ Envelop him, more like. Should Hayame bow her head and torso any closer, she will likely surround him — her head leaning over his shoulder. But, like that, he will be able to find the binding that holds her sleek, dark hair in its high tail and pick it apart. He will loose her hair over his own body like a curtain, huffing out a little breath to blow aside a lock that drifts over his face as she does.
With his own fingers, he seeks that long strand of red among her own natural coloration. The mark he had tucked into her soul, in their Communion following the Dryad's demand — riding on the wave of sympathetic magic to unite some distant corner of their minds, and to truly evoke some reflection within one another. Proof of purchase, most ironically. Not in monetary value, but in influence. He cannot find the words to say, cannot promise her that he will be better — he just hopes, in carding his fingers through her hair and holding the line of her unsmiling cheek, she can understand he wishes to be more. ]
no subject
Bend down a little more, to me.
[ Envelop him, more like. Should Hayame bow her head and torso any closer, she will likely surround him — her head leaning over his shoulder. But, like that, he will be able to find the binding that holds her sleek, dark hair in its high tail and pick it apart. He will loose her hair over his own body like a curtain, huffing out a little breath to blow aside a lock that drifts over his face as she does.
With his own fingers, he seeks that long strand of red among her own natural coloration. The mark he had tucked into her soul, in their Communion following the Dryad's demand — riding on the wave of sympathetic magic to unite some distant corner of their minds, and to truly evoke some reflection within one another. Proof of purchase, most ironically. Not in monetary value, but in influence. He cannot find the words to say, cannot promise her that he will be better — he just hopes, in carding his fingers through her hair and holding the line of her unsmiling cheek, she can understand he wishes to be more. ]