The outstretched limb was seen to flinch at her fear-- fear was something he recognized in humans for certain. The new priests always wore it, the first few times they came to him. He was quite good at fear. But it was a Bad thing. Especially now, when he was meant to be making a good impression on his bride. As good an impression as he could hope to make being... him.
The tendril pulled back, as did he, several feet when she recoiled from him. For a moment he looked a bit like a bird with ruffled feathers, half perched on high on the altar, briefly even bigger than before, the tendril shaky in its shape and nearly fading altogether. But when she took the first tentative step closer, he shank again, back down to his original, massive size. Still and calm, orange eyes watching endlessly. His outstretched limb firming up once more.
The air around him was cold, cold as ice, seemingly emanating from within his body itself. But strangely, when the touch occurred, it was warm. Very warm, soft, carrying a bit of a tingling sensation beneath its surface. He was the one to briefly flinch at the first touch, but only briefly, and only an inch or so. When the contact was made, he reached further, wrapping slightly around her wrist and hand.
Touch. That was what touch felt like. Were all humans so soft? Were all hands like hers? He wanted to touch more, but the priestesses' lectures still echoed in what constituted his memory. He must be Careful. He must be Patient. And above all else, he must be Gentle.
Gentle he was, tugging so gradually it felt like another human pulling her closer to the altar. His body slithered away from the stone and the candles, clearing a path for her to walk at her own pace, gentle, gentle, gentle.
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The tendril pulled back, as did he, several feet when she recoiled from him. For a moment he looked a bit like a bird with ruffled feathers, half perched on high on the altar, briefly even bigger than before, the tendril shaky in its shape and nearly fading altogether. But when she took the first tentative step closer, he shank again, back down to his original, massive size. Still and calm, orange eyes watching endlessly. His outstretched limb firming up once more.
The air around him was cold, cold as ice, seemingly emanating from within his body itself. But strangely, when the touch occurred, it was warm. Very warm, soft, carrying a bit of a tingling sensation beneath its surface. He was the one to briefly flinch at the first touch, but only briefly, and only an inch or so. When the contact was made, he reached further, wrapping slightly around her wrist and hand.
Touch. That was what touch felt like. Were all humans so soft? Were all hands like hers? He wanted to touch more, but the priestesses' lectures still echoed in what constituted his memory. He must be Careful. He must be Patient. And above all else, he must be Gentle.
Gentle he was, tugging so gradually it felt like another human pulling her closer to the altar. His body slithered away from the stone and the candles, clearing a path for her to walk at her own pace, gentle, gentle, gentle.