(no subject)
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Cauterizing the wound. I'll do it so it doesn't hurt."
"How kind of you," she shot back sarcastically. "Don't expect me to thank you."
"Don't talk."
Leila jerked her face away from the approaching hand. "I don't know what kind of hocus-pocus you can pull, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you play around with my body while I'm out. I'm gonna be awake to see this from start to finish. Try anything funny, and believe me, you'll pay."
Undeterred, D set his left hand on her.
"Don't--" Leila's words became a scream. "Stop, I'm begging you. Do it while I'm still awake. Please," she pleaded.
Something glistening welled in her eyes as they gazed at D. It spoke of horrific memories.
Silently taking his hand away, D tore the sleeve of his coat and put a strip of cloth from it between Leila's lips. They had no anesthesia. The cloth was to keep her from biting her tongue. This time she cooperated quietly. The little nod she made must've been an expression of gratitude.
D lowered the hot metal to her skin. Shortly thereafter, a pungent scent and a series of low moans began to permeate the darkening bower.
Is it just me that finds this to be the most beautiful scene? Maybe even romantic? I don't know. But it's wonderful and I love it. To have someone's care for you shown through a long ritual of pain. Maybe it is just me. I've never wanted a permanent tattoo, but I've always wanted to sit through the hours of a traditional Japanese tattoo. (I've actually been wondering how skin would react to henna applied with needles. All in my quest to find an enduring (at least enduring more than a week) temporary tattoo). Even the red string now lying between the pages of this book, I found myself daydreaming about it being sewn into my hand as I traveled further to find the story of Odin Sphere for the seamstress. Not that I would ever actually do that. I'll likely never have myself pierced nor tattooed. But the symbolism.. the ritual of it all. Maybe that's what I'm in love with.
"Cauterizing the wound. I'll do it so it doesn't hurt."
"How kind of you," she shot back sarcastically. "Don't expect me to thank you."
"Don't talk."
Leila jerked her face away from the approaching hand. "I don't know what kind of hocus-pocus you can pull, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you play around with my body while I'm out. I'm gonna be awake to see this from start to finish. Try anything funny, and believe me, you'll pay."
Undeterred, D set his left hand on her.
"Don't--" Leila's words became a scream. "Stop, I'm begging you. Do it while I'm still awake. Please," she pleaded.
Something glistening welled in her eyes as they gazed at D. It spoke of horrific memories.
Silently taking his hand away, D tore the sleeve of his coat and put a strip of cloth from it between Leila's lips. They had no anesthesia. The cloth was to keep her from biting her tongue. This time she cooperated quietly. The little nod she made must've been an expression of gratitude.
D lowered the hot metal to her skin. Shortly thereafter, a pungent scent and a series of low moans began to permeate the darkening bower.
Is it just me that finds this to be the most beautiful scene? Maybe even romantic? I don't know. But it's wonderful and I love it. To have someone's care for you shown through a long ritual of pain. Maybe it is just me. I've never wanted a permanent tattoo, but I've always wanted to sit through the hours of a traditional Japanese tattoo. (I've actually been wondering how skin would react to henna applied with needles. All in my quest to find an enduring (at least enduring more than a week) temporary tattoo). Even the red string now lying between the pages of this book, I found myself daydreaming about it being sewn into my hand as I traveled further to find the story of Odin Sphere for the seamstress. Not that I would ever actually do that. I'll likely never have myself pierced nor tattooed. But the symbolism.. the ritual of it all. Maybe that's what I'm in love with.