physical touch for @vmpkin | selectively accepting.
wordlessly, detached, a set of pale-white knuckles dipped to brush aside the wandering strands of hair that had parted from the lock. his skin is too cold to be respectful, with a set of waifish claws that tuck the wayward hairs with care behind her ear. but his eyes were all but gentle, expecting in some manner, while his lips were spread too thin and pressed so tightly shut. his touch was fleeting, escaping in so gentle a manner that it was if he had never reached out at all. but he does not retreat so easily thumb presses lower and hooks along her jaw, swiping to collect the carcass of a single salty tear.
if the count had judged her, it showed not on his face. it was absent of that scrutiny; a blank canvas of imperceivable thought. he only tsk’d her, flexed his hand and shook his fingers to banish that wetness away. “ . . . tears may benefit the living, dragă mea. but they do not suit the dead. ”
