09-01-2020, 04:00 PM
He has never really thought much about his childhood, but how often does anyone do so when it is a good one? His parents loved him and they gave him space to be. Certainly no one ever left him for dead, and though he was never much of a momma’s boy, he loved his mother and his father as they loved him. Perhaps it is best he does not know her history, or he may keep her here. May shower her in love that she doesn’t even want, but with their own child now, he seems incapable of not playing the doting father sometimes. Less doting to his son, but to a daughter? Ah...let’s not imagine how sappy he might get.
It seems to take her some time to turn and realize he is there. He waits though, worry etching his expression just slightly. Her response is….well, it is unexpected. Rarely does anyone answer quite so honestly, and he wants to ask more but how to phrase a question that she could answer? But before he can even formulate a thought, she is asking taste? and he doesn’t understand at all. Not that she needs his answer, because soon enough she is licking him.
Ah, well, that was....it was strange, for starters. But also, after a few moments of getting over the feel of someone’s tongue on his ribs, it helps him make sense of her. A girl who cannot talk or really, probably, eat. A girl made of skin and bones who looked like she was just trying not to die. A girl who navigated the world by taste. ”What do I taste like?” he asks with an amused grin. He’s not sure how well she can answer, but might as well find out.
It seems to take her some time to turn and realize he is there. He waits though, worry etching his expression just slightly. Her response is….well, it is unexpected. Rarely does anyone answer quite so honestly, and he wants to ask more but how to phrase a question that she could answer? But before he can even formulate a thought, she is asking taste? and he doesn’t understand at all. Not that she needs his answer, because soon enough she is licking him.
Ah, well, that was....it was strange, for starters. But also, after a few moments of getting over the feel of someone’s tongue on his ribs, it helps him make sense of her. A girl who cannot talk or really, probably, eat. A girl made of skin and bones who looked like she was just trying not to die. A girl who navigated the world by taste. ”What do I taste like?” he asks with an amused grin. He’s not sure how well she can answer, but might as well find out.
aedan
the night is more alive and more
richly colored than the day.
@[Crackjaw]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission