[Her lips are still warm. A supremely useless thought in this moment that he humors all the same: her lips are still warm and familiar, despite the fear, despite the ferocity of her desperate attempts to harm him just moments past. It had grounded him before; he can only hope it offers the same respite for Ciri, piercing through the illusions in her mind, widening a small window of clarity that she can latch onto. Cling to.
She freezes against him. Sephiroth’s lips linger, and it’s as if he can feel tension unwinding in the muscles of her body, though he only has grasp of her wrists in his gloved hands. She slinks against the wall like her strings have been cut. Instinctively, maybe foolishly, he lets go of one wrist and settles it, instead, at her waist.
Keeping her steady, hoping against hope that she’s coming to her senses.]
It’s me. [He breathes out, low and slightly guttering from his own adrenaline, when the kiss finally breaks.] It’s just me, Ciri.
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She freezes against him. Sephiroth’s lips linger, and it’s as if he can feel tension unwinding in the muscles of her body, though he only has grasp of her wrists in his gloved hands. She slinks against the wall like her strings have been cut. Instinctively, maybe foolishly, he lets go of one wrist and settles it, instead, at her waist.
Keeping her steady, hoping against hope that she’s coming to her senses.]
It’s me. [He breathes out, low and slightly guttering from his own adrenaline, when the kiss finally breaks.] It’s just me, Ciri.