[ She shifts too, taking a moment to find her balance while relying on Vanadi for stability she's not providing herself right now. She uses both her hands to more roll up his sleeve than push it up. It's habit rather than an active decision.
Collette doesn't know what she was expecting. Prosthetic arms weren't built to be this complex or integrated in her time. She doesn't think they've figured out how to make the nervous system and body cooperate with foreign implants on that size, something about infection and deterioration. Something like Vanadi's arm is amazing in and of itself. Past the end of his glove, it's worked metal that has some kind of definitive form and function.
Only it's scuffed up and not following the kinds of lines it would if it were pristine. This was part of his body, and it didn't matter if he couldn't feel it, and it didn't matter if people didn't see it every day. It shouldn't be this way.
With one hand still holding up his sleeve, the other moves to trace gently over several of the scrapes. On impulse she ducks down and presses her lips to the crooked vent, pulling away again as she says with a small smile; ]
It might not work like it does for skinned knees -- [ the way she remembers it with her Mom, kissing to make it all better ] -- but I don't think it hurts to try.
[ And she made to roll his sleeve down, preparing afterward to move off his lap and uphold her part of the bargain. ]
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Collette doesn't know what she was expecting. Prosthetic arms weren't built to be this complex or integrated in her time. She doesn't think they've figured out how to make the nervous system and body cooperate with foreign implants on that size, something about infection and deterioration. Something like Vanadi's arm is amazing in and of itself. Past the end of his glove, it's worked metal that has some kind of definitive form and function.
Only it's scuffed up and not following the kinds of lines it would if it were pristine. This was part of his body, and it didn't matter if he couldn't feel it, and it didn't matter if people didn't see it every day. It shouldn't be this way.
With one hand still holding up his sleeve, the other moves to trace gently over several of the scrapes. On impulse she ducks down and presses her lips to the crooked vent, pulling away again as she says with a small smile; ]
It might not work like it does for skinned knees -- [ the way she remembers it with her Mom, kissing to make it all better ] -- but I don't think it hurts to try.
[ And she made to roll his sleeve down, preparing afterward to move off his lap and uphold her part of the bargain. ]