[ Simon surprises himself with the clumsy, desperate strength with which he returns this carefully-choreographed hug, like the grip of a drowning man.
The lifelong framework of social know-how telling him he might freak Konoha out with this is getting its ass kicked by the part of him that's concerned with navigating this weird new purgatory of not wanting to be alone but not wanting so meet someone's eyes and see that horrible opposite of recognition. Which is most of him, these days, and not having to deal with it with Konoha is indescribable. ]
That's good.
[ His voice is a little unsteady, larynx (""") suddenly in a stranglehold. That flood of warmth and wellbeing that's supposedly unique to Moonblessed is there, somehow both enhanced and offset by how brittle and exposed he feels all of a sudden. It doesn't deter him any, and the one ear that feels the warm edge of her skin tilts against her cheek like a plant finding the sun. Everything of this weird Moonblessed physical communication is in that, just there — he can feel the stray hairs on her temple; he feels like he could practically read the little galaxies of freckles like Braille. ]
no subject
The lifelong framework of social know-how telling him he might freak Konoha out with this is getting its ass kicked by the part of him that's concerned with navigating this weird new purgatory of not wanting to be alone but not wanting so meet someone's eyes and see that horrible opposite of recognition. Which is most of him, these days, and not having to deal with it with Konoha is indescribable. ]
That's good.
[ His voice is a little unsteady, larynx (""") suddenly in a stranglehold. That flood of warmth and wellbeing that's supposedly unique to Moonblessed is there, somehow both enhanced and offset by how brittle and exposed he feels all of a sudden. It doesn't deter him any, and the one ear that feels the warm edge of her skin tilts against her cheek like a plant finding the sun. Everything of this weird Moonblessed physical communication is in that, just there — he can feel the stray hairs on her temple; he feels like he could practically read the little galaxies of freckles like Braille. ]
It's... good. Thanks.