@leadlock asked : she should be afraid, her mother's warnings are well remembered, & sofía wants to listen, but she also wants to know. before she can even ask, she has to get his attention somehow, & so her hands pull on the back of his coat, expecting the fabric to stretch to its length & having to repeat the motion. except, it seems the coat is much longer than she thought, & her hands drag & drag with no end in sight, like a magic trick she once saw, & she is too mesmerized to stop. / little sofia ...
𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 likely to encounter the dead . For their bodies , fresh and pure -- were simply receptive to their ghostly calls . Perhaps this was the case . A juxtaposition : a body free of curse where as he -- god killer , death - defier , set the stage for absolute misery . She felt young . Carefree . A world that he had left long ago with his feeble body curled up , sickly and dying , beneath burning pyre . She approaches him --- armed with nothing but innocence , crowned with it - and plays with his coat as if he were a long time friend . Death turns his head to watch over a broad shoulder . Watching such young hands toy with the endless void that transforms and wraps around her hands in playful wisps . He says not a word -- plays with her by putting his own deformities to good use . The length of it , seemingly sentient , moves and expands in endless waves for her to feel . For once -- he feels something . Aching and raw : regret . He wanted a child of his own - once upon a time . Ironic that fate has brought her to him for him to entertain . It’s something in him that can never reject the mere idea of caring . At least , for a child . He pretends as if he does not notice her -- not wishing to scare her with blank visage . They can play without facing one another .
