*At that, her finger jumps off the fatal line on his palm, and she isn't sure exactly what to say. He's said it so calmly, though, that for a moment she thinks he must be joking.
But he isn't, and she's thrown off enough by that to give him her own palm without hesitation. It's a working hand, scarred in a few places here and there: burns from the kitchen and old knife cuts that read as the faintest of white lines on her brown skin. The bad one, though—that's from a transformation years ago, when she'd sunk her own, still-human teeth into that same web between thumb and forefinger and nearly taken a chunk out. It's long since healed, now, into a faint semicircle: almost like an extra line to read that crisscrosses the others.
Somewhat bashfully, she peeks up at him, watching him read it.*
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-02-12 05:17 pm (UTC)*At that, her finger jumps off the fatal line on his palm, and she isn't sure exactly what to say. He's said it so calmly, though, that for a moment she thinks he must be joking.
But he isn't, and she's thrown off enough by that to give him her own palm without hesitation. It's a working hand, scarred in a few places here and there: burns from the kitchen and old knife cuts that read as the faintest of white lines on her brown skin. The bad one, though—that's from a transformation years ago, when she'd sunk her own, still-human teeth into that same web between thumb and forefinger and nearly taken a chunk out. It's long since healed, now, into a faint semicircle: almost like an extra line to read that crisscrosses the others.
Somewhat bashfully, she peeks up at him, watching him read it.*