[ But I just wanted to know when you decided you liked me 'nuff to keep me around for your Gun-hunting plans isn't something she can very well admit.
Denji starts to huff as her hands are forced to retract, but mention of Aki's realer concerns back then, her other scars, helps to fight her annoyance down and adjust to the new design of their limbs with little pushback, all things considered. Arms hugged around the underside of her legs, she leans to get a better look. In this case, "worse" looks like a whole constellation of impressions strewn across Aki's rib cage, canvasing her toned stomach. A few are paler, more faded, as if they could have been from a time beyond Aki's career as a devil hunter. But she knows in other places outside of her view, has seen flashes on her the woman's arms, down her muscled back, there are probably fresher ones, the skin angrily pulled tight and flush. Like it could burst red once more with the slightest puncture of even the dullest edge.
Her nails crescent into her thighs.
It doesn't make sense how much Denji wants to reach out again, rub her thumb against the softly textured outline of any one of them. Except unlike the mark she'd touched, none of these are hers to claim blame for. If she were in a museum or art gallery, she wouldn't exert half as much respect. ]
Ah, so, which one… was the worst?
[ Hurt the worst, healed the worst, whichever. She'll leave it up to Aki's interpretation. ]
no subject
[ But I just wanted to know when you decided you liked me 'nuff to keep me around for your Gun-hunting plans isn't something she can very well admit.
Denji starts to huff as her hands are forced to retract, but mention of Aki's realer concerns back then, her other scars, helps to fight her annoyance down and adjust to the new design of their limbs with little pushback, all things considered. Arms hugged around the underside of her legs, she leans to get a better look. In this case, "worse" looks like a whole constellation of impressions strewn across Aki's rib cage, canvasing her toned stomach. A few are paler, more faded, as if they could have been from a time beyond Aki's career as a devil hunter. But she knows in other places outside of her view, has seen flashes on her the woman's arms, down her muscled back, there are probably fresher ones, the skin angrily pulled tight and flush. Like it could burst red once more with the slightest puncture of even the dullest edge.
Her nails crescent into her thighs.
It doesn't make sense how much Denji wants to reach out again, rub her thumb against the softly textured outline of any one of them. Except unlike the mark she'd touched, none of these are hers to claim blame for. If she were in a museum or art gallery, she wouldn't exert half as much respect. ]
Ah, so, which one… was the worst?
[ Hurt the worst, healed the worst, whichever. She'll leave it up to Aki's interpretation. ]