[ She doesn't know where it's going, either. But for the first time in a long time, she has some faith in her own ability to handle the outcome. Whatever the outcome is.
She is silent at his question, and then she nods, leaning her head sideways back on him.
Her mind is different than it used to be. Once, it was volatile as a volcano, but it was bursts of desperate happiness, enthusiasm, held in check by fear. Now, it has boundaries, slim and permeable and tough like a membrane. But she lets him inside.
The surface of her thoughts is a sort of controlled chaos, like a school of fish scattering in different directions, twitched this way and that by currents, but coming together in long and sweeping movements. She is feeling a lot of things, fear and distrust, confidence and anger, and love. She hates herself, hates her mutation, loves her mutation, is starting to believe she is really beautiful. (Her skin softly rustles to blue against his.)
I want to communicate, is the thought that she lets drift to dominance. Not truly words, but an idea, of opening to something that words have, thus far, proved painfully inadequate to satisfy. She wants to hear him, and she tugs, gently, at his mental touch. ]
private
She is silent at his question, and then she nods, leaning her head sideways back on him.
Her mind is different than it used to be. Once, it was volatile as a volcano, but it was bursts of desperate happiness, enthusiasm, held in check by fear. Now, it has boundaries, slim and permeable and tough like a membrane. But she lets him inside.
The surface of her thoughts is a sort of controlled chaos, like a school of fish scattering in different directions, twitched this way and that by currents, but coming together in long and sweeping movements. She is feeling a lot of things, fear and distrust, confidence and anger, and love. She hates herself, hates her mutation, loves her mutation, is starting to believe she is really beautiful. (Her skin softly rustles to blue against his.)
I want to communicate, is the thought that she lets drift to dominance. Not truly words, but an idea, of opening to something that words have, thus far, proved painfully inadequate to satisfy. She wants to hear him, and she tugs, gently, at his mental touch. ]