It's okay, you can step on the tops. I only walk on the bottoms, anyway.
[She looks at him a minute, glancing from his face to his offered hand, and then carefully she lifts hers and fits it against his palm, lacing her fingers through his.
She doesn't use swords, doesn't use guns or knives or even a bow, not really. Her palms are still soft, uncalloused; it makes her notice all the more how his fingers are longer than hers, his hand a little broader, his grip loose but steady and reliable.
He said he'd teach her how to shoot a gun, with these hands. Because he wanted her to feel safe.
She thinks of it appearing in a shatter of blue-white light, the same way her shoes had disappeared, and again it occurs to her that she ought to find that apprehensive, something she ought to feel the need to guard against, and she doesn't.]
...So what way do you wanna mess up your first dance ever, then?
no subject
[She looks at him a minute, glancing from his face to his offered hand, and then carefully she lifts hers and fits it against his palm, lacing her fingers through his.
She doesn't use swords, doesn't use guns or knives or even a bow, not really. Her palms are still soft, uncalloused; it makes her notice all the more how his fingers are longer than hers, his hand a little broader, his grip loose but steady and reliable.
He said he'd teach her how to shoot a gun, with these hands. Because he wanted her to feel safe.
She thinks of it appearing in a shatter of blue-white light, the same way her shoes had disappeared, and again it occurs to her that she ought to find that apprehensive, something she ought to feel the need to guard against, and she doesn't.]
...So what way do you wanna mess up your first dance ever, then?