[open] I never met a more impossible girl; any

[Cordis]

It is not, exactly, that she fears being touched. Not in the same way she once did. For she knows now that she could set them ablaze for touching her, that she is stronger and more powerful than most, at least in this small way. She can make herself untouchable and enforce it.
But old habits run deep, and when she feels others against her skin the memories that surface are sharp and painful. Touching has such a weight, for her, at such opposite ends of the spectrum – at one end, her tormenter, the dark god who kept her prisoner and ruined her a hundred times over.
At the other end, a torment of a different sort – the woman who undid everything. The one Cordis never wanted to stop touching. Who is gone, and who she can never touch again.
“It’s not fear,” she says, as if that was the point of the question, “there are only a few who I prefer to touch.”
A short list, then, made shorter by death and disappearance. Her lover, dead. Her children, gone. Who else, then? That mare she’d met once, who had looked so like Spyndle? Well, she was gone, too.
Perhaps there is no one, then.

With no prompting, Cordis shifts away, back to her regular form, the comfort of silver and lightning. The darkness she had drawn about them dissipates, leaving only shadows, which now seem strangely bright after the jet blackness they had been in.
“I’ll tell you more, someday,” she says. She isn’t sure why she offers this, or if the creature will even care, for Cordis is not very interesting. And then there is light, blinding, and she is gone.

I’ll touch you all and make damn sure

Cordis

that no one touches me