[ A dream, a nightmare. They're not yet completely aware of what those words mean, but it does feel...right. Something they don't yet have language for, but is built innately into their nature.
A slow nod. Yes, they remember. A voice. Scarlet eyes. An ever-burning flame, illuminating their dream of plummeting, of crashing down through hundreds of fragmented, empty masks. Though...
They take a few more cautious steps, close enough to reach out and touch Grimm's cloak. They seem a little surprised by it; it's likely that they remember it as a different colour.
...If not reprimanded for the act of touching it, they'll simply hold onto it. Apparently fascinated by the texture enough to want to do so. ]
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A slow nod. Yes, they remember. A voice. Scarlet eyes. An ever-burning flame, illuminating their dream of plummeting, of crashing down through hundreds of fragmented, empty masks. Though...
They take a few more cautious steps, close enough to reach out and touch Grimm's cloak. They seem a little surprised by it; it's likely that they remember it as a different colour.
...If not reprimanded for the act of touching it, they'll simply hold onto it. Apparently fascinated by the texture enough to want to do so. ]