stained-glass-fragments: That wasn’t all about her that confused Yune or gave him pause, either. Onc

stained-glass-fragments: That wasn’t all about her that confused Yune or gave him pause, either. Once, after a particularly loud screaming and crying fit when the two of them were taken to the back room on the far left—the worst room of all—she had been sniffling quietly to herself while they were temporarily chained up to the stone wall to keep from wandering off while the alchemists prepared their machines and tools. Without warning, without reason, she had grabbed his hand. He had been prepared to yank it out of her grip, which was saturated with tears she had wiped from her eyes, but she gave the smallest of squeezes to his fingers with that wet hand and something in him froze. “It’s gonna be okay,” she said. It was the stupidest thing to say. He knew it wasn’t going to be. She knew it wasn’t, too. But accompanying those words was a tiny smile on her trembling lips. She couldn’t hide the way that her white, cat-like ears that were not her normal ones—which replaced the ones that had been cut off—were flattened back against her head. And even as her eyes were filled with fear, filled with blind terror, there was that unidentifiable something shining in their depths that stayed lit. He had a close look at it for the first time. His black heart skipped a beat. Why smile before you were cut open and had who-knows-what put into you or taken out of you? Why try to give someone a false idea of optimism about something that couldn’t possibly be changed? He didn’t understand her. [ This is art that accompanies the part of the story that I posted yesterday: Found Here] -- source link

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