"I was," she says, lifting her head to prop her chin on his shoulder, smiling a tiny little smile, "but I found him."
She had had her eyes closed for the few seconds it took Dustin to figure out who this person wrapped around--and essentially nuzzling--him was, so she is fairly oblivious to the epic spectacle she just missed. If she had seen it, she likely would have been awed at the incomprehensible complexity of his thought processes, and the sheer beauty of thought manifested in color and form in the space around them. As it stands, though, she's pretty satisfied with what she's got, pretty pictures or no.
If she were asked, right then, why she had abruptly stepped over whatever inane roadblock that had been keeping her from being affectionate, Yoshimi wouldn't have an answer at all. Something had compelled her to walk in here and hug him and kiss him, and she had done it, and that's really all that matters to her as she shifts her hand to twine her fingers with his, kissing the corner of his jaw with a growing smile, sensing his relaxation and responding to it with her own ease, using her free hand to tuck a bit of his hair behind a pointed ear.
"Hi," she says after a moment, her smile now audible, voice quiet.
There came a second laugh, rumbling softly through his neck and down his back like a contented purr absorbed from the live walls, which consequently had become a bit more hectic as should be expected from conscious thought, although what had been sorted stayed dutifully in place and the rest that appeared were far more orderly than when he first arrived. At any rate they were all directed towards a similar subject now, which Yoshimi might recognize, albeit from a slightly...skewed point of view. Tendrils of emotion like sparks from a live wire tumbled through the floor in random bundles, bringing with them inner warmth and the rhythm of a heartbeat or...well.
These temptations were surprisingly well controlled, just like everything else in his mind currently--not that this stopped him from nuzzling into her affections, tilting his chin to an acceptable angle wherein, upon letting Yoshimi have her way, turned on her with a quirk of the neck and a fleeting brush of his crooked nose against her forehead, breathing away her stray fringe of vibrant pink and replacing it with a tender kiss.
"Hello." Oh, god, they were snuggling. They were snuggling and it was fantastic.
This deserved a pause for the associated colors and textures that could no longer be contained to have temporary freedom amongst their rational brethren.
"It's a day, I guess," she replies, watching his thoughts flicker through the room with vague interest, catching the general gist of the series of abstract images, the pulses of color, the humming in the walls and the floor. Any other time, she would be interested in the flashes of image and form, maybe even be compelled to chase them with her eyes, just to watch them vanish or transform into something else, but really, why would she pay attention to nebulous, quasi-incomprehensible twitches of conscious thought when she could lean further over his shoulder, her still-free arm wrapping around his neck loosely, fingers playing along the other side of his throat. Her cheek brushes his stubble, nose bumping under his chin like some kind of odd, slightly-larger-than-normal, pink-haired cat.
"Were you meditating? I'm sorry if I interrupted you." She almost sounds sincere--almost.
She had had her eyes closed for the few seconds it took Dustin to figure out who this person wrapped around--and essentially nuzzling--him was, so she is fairly oblivious to the epic spectacle she just missed. If she had seen it, she likely would have been awed at the incomprehensible complexity of his thought processes, and the sheer beauty of thought manifested in color and form in the space around them. As it stands, though, she's pretty satisfied with what she's got, pretty pictures or no.
If she were asked, right then, why she had abruptly stepped over whatever inane roadblock that had been keeping her from being affectionate, Yoshimi wouldn't have an answer at all. Something had compelled her to walk in here and hug him and kiss him, and she had done it, and that's really all that matters to her as she shifts her hand to twine her fingers with his, kissing the corner of his jaw with a growing smile, sensing his relaxation and responding to it with her own ease, using her free hand to tuck a bit of his hair behind a pointed ear.
"Hi," she says after a moment, her smile now audible, voice quiet.
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These temptations were surprisingly well controlled, just like everything else in his mind currently--not that this stopped him from nuzzling into her affections, tilting his chin to an acceptable angle wherein, upon letting Yoshimi have her way, turned on her with a quirk of the neck and a fleeting brush of his crooked nose against her forehead, breathing away her stray fringe of vibrant pink and replacing it with a tender kiss.
"Hello." Oh, god, they were snuggling. They were snuggling and it was fantastic.
This deserved a pause for the associated colors and textures that could no longer be contained to have temporary freedom amongst their rational brethren.
"Having a good day I take it?"
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"Were you meditating? I'm sorry if I interrupted you." She almost sounds sincere--almost.
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