[ Her brother very rarely smiles, and when he does it is often twisted by sentiment other than care or sweetness. He's a creature of humors, often violent and cruel, and though Claret is never subject to them herself, she has seen their handiwork on the spares (or what is left of them when his hunger passes).
But when he smiles at her, it is good — it is young and unfettered by ugly thoughts or sentiment; it is pure.
Her fingers find his wrist, sliding up to hold the hand that touches her as she presses her cheek into his palm. ]
Every part of you — y'know? [ Angels and demons, all. ]
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But when he smiles at her, it is good — it is young and unfettered by ugly thoughts or sentiment; it is pure.
Her fingers find his wrist, sliding up to hold the hand that touches her as she presses her cheek into his palm. ]
Every part of you — y'know? [ Angels and demons, all. ]