[ ...Hers? She glances down at the, yes, black hair which is tumbling over her body, stretching to the floor, as if noticing it for the first time (shoving and huffing it out of the way didn't evidently make much impression). Glancing around, she walks over to the nearest reflective surface, the glass of an oven door or microwave if those are a thing, crouching or stretching as needed, and stares. Tension knits her brow as she seems to be trying to put something together, and clearly is failing. They both are without memories but this, it's not about that. Like the first, uncertain note of a melody she can't quite catch, it makes no sense. ]
[ He might not be able to tell what's eating her until she lefts a hand to touch her reflection, and it's shaking. Even had she more than a few words of language at hand, it couldn't possibly be adequate. How can one have fear without a memory behind it? ]
[ (Her mood will spring back in a moment, like a bit of rubber set on its most recent shape, his company being a far more pleasant harbor for her drifting mood. There's a good reason her mind isn't whole when she wakes, and this is a piece of it.) ]
no subject
or microwave if those are a thing, crouching or stretching as needed, and stares. Tension knits her brow as she seems to be trying to put something together, and clearly is failing. They both are without memories but this, it's not about that. Like the first, uncertain note of a melody she can't quite catch, it makes no sense. ][ He might not be able to tell what's eating her until she lefts a hand to touch her reflection, and it's shaking. Even had she more than a few words of language at hand, it couldn't possibly be adequate. How can one have fear without a memory behind it? ]
[ (Her mood will spring back in a moment, like a bit of rubber set on its most recent shape, his company being a far more pleasant harbor for her drifting mood. There's a good reason her mind isn't whole when she wakes, and this is a piece of it.) ]