[ When Dazai draws off the shirt that had once been clinging to Linneus' form, he takes care to be mindful of any potential wounds that may reside beneath it. The tattered garment settles beside his own pile of discarded clothing, quickly forgotten soon after it's freed from skin. What he doesn't miss is the hitch of a shoulder as clothing falls away, followed by a marred patchwork of flesh poorly knitted together. Scars speak of a slow healing process, one that took so much time to mend damaged flesh that the tissue will never be the same again.
It's one thing to hear of traumas endured in the past, but something else entirely to face things that obviously were once a gruesome sight and surely horrific to endure. Imagining Linneus suffering that kind of pain seizes Dazai's heart with a pang of his own, aching over the thought. ]
We're more alike than I'd thought.
[ Scarred inside and out, the both of them have gone through unimaginable traumas, atrocities of such magnitude that only their flesh can describe. He knows Linneus must feel exposed like this, bearing his scars in the open to more than the mirror's reflection and his own eyes. Dazai understands that all too well. His bandages aren't so much decorative as a second skin; an effort to bury things below the surface when his own flesh can't cover them.
There's a compulsion to touch them, putting his hands on scars that surely reach all the way down to Linneus' soul. But instead his fingers end up against petal-pink hair, combing it back as tendrils of water slide from Dazai's arm to leave silky strands damp in the process. ]
I'm sorry for that.
[ Nobody should mirror Dazai this way, least of all someone so delicate and soft as Linneus. The other man has deserved more good in his life than he has ever been the recipient of. And though it's some small consolation in the face of everything, Dazai tries to provide a little kindness here and now. He works the fingers of both hands slowly through hair that needs tending to after all the dust and debris it's been through. There's all manner of bathing products on a rack nearby, but his aim is more comforting than practical for the time being. ]
no subject
It's one thing to hear of traumas endured in the past, but something else entirely to face things that obviously were once a gruesome sight and surely horrific to endure. Imagining Linneus suffering that kind of pain seizes Dazai's heart with a pang of his own, aching over the thought. ]
We're more alike than I'd thought.
[ Scarred inside and out, the both of them have gone through unimaginable traumas, atrocities of such magnitude that only their flesh can describe. He knows Linneus must feel exposed like this, bearing his scars in the open to more than the mirror's reflection and his own eyes. Dazai understands that all too well. His bandages aren't so much decorative as a second skin; an effort to bury things below the surface when his own flesh can't cover them.
There's a compulsion to touch them, putting his hands on scars that surely reach all the way down to Linneus' soul. But instead his fingers end up against petal-pink hair, combing it back as tendrils of water slide from Dazai's arm to leave silky strands damp in the process. ]
I'm sorry for that.
[ Nobody should mirror Dazai this way, least of all someone so delicate and soft as Linneus. The other man has deserved more good in his life than he has ever been the recipient of. And though it's some small consolation in the face of everything, Dazai tries to provide a little kindness here and now. He works the fingers of both hands slowly through hair that needs tending to after all the dust and debris it's been through. There's all manner of bathing products on a rack nearby, but his aim is more comforting than practical for the time being. ]