>>6257282

It reminds you of… of when Soralisa almost lost her hands to the Sanction, how her skin turned crystal-like, just like that of the Sun-Birther.
“It is just a first attempt! I wanted to… I tried to give you something to remember me by… I hope you like it,” Bragia mutters in the end, putting an ivory circle against Her fingers. Unable to fit her hollow palm, Ansàrra picks it with Her fingers and tilts it to the light.
An attempt made with effort is already worthwhile, She reminds Bragia.
“I— thanks…” she stumbles upon her own words, squirming like a child who brings home a beautiful flower picked up in the fields, just as a little present for her mother. “I still need to refine it! Maybe I could carve something to the left, maybe a sword of some kind.”
There is a pause as another of Ansàrra’s hands start working on a nearby flowerpot, which is full of herbs and a single gorgeous red flower. Two more hands wrap on its stem and they uproot it, then press on the earth to level it again.
“But…” Bragia’s olive eyes darken, and she protests. “That was the most beautiful thing there.”
I must think of the pot. And a flower has no right to greedily gather all the nutrients shared among other plants. To treasure one thing over others is madness, my dear. I bleed for all of you.
She withdraws both hands which disappear from your sight, the golden metal flowing in about of Her crystal flesh. You can only see three arms from your vantage point, but you would guess that there is — six — of them.
“And yet you were the one who made it grow there, right?”
It was indeed beautiful.
“I don’t understand.”

[cont.]