I want to see them work. [It is the lamest-ass of excuses, because she has already seen that they work. Her actions have to speak for themselves. A steady issue of butterflies moves out into the room like a sigh of release, so that when Erika sits back up and starts wrapping the next pair of slippers, she's also kneeling behind Venus and reaching for one of her wings to...uh, groom it, basically. Running her fingers through the feathers the way you'd comb someone's hair back, over and over, far more for the contact than the hygiene.]
no subject