Find Me (Character Chat #4)

She wrapped her wings around them like a cocoon, ignoring her protesting muscles, and looped her hands around his neck.

She pulled back but rested her forehead against his. "Ignore my insecurities. Just tell me I'm being an idiot when I worry about things like that."

She grinned. "Perfect."

Her smiled widened. "Yess. Well, it's more of a boxing gym."

She snickered and pecked his lips. "Punching a punching bag, silly."

She pulled away and tapped his nose. "I won't make you if you don't want to do it. I'm not that cruel."

"Not really. I think you're quite cute." She stretched out her muscles and wings, testing them.

She smirked at him. "You don't need rock hard abs to be an ass kicking demon prince. Plus, it keeps you under everyone's radar. They wouldn't expect you to be any sort of threat. Take Kiriti for example."

She frowned but didn't say any more, instead rolling her shoulders and opening and closing her wings. "I'm gonna check the injuries. I'll be just a sec."

Tessa went upstairs, grabbing her discarded clothes from before the attack as she went, then headed into the master bath connected to her bedroom. She unraveled the bandages and looked at them through the mirror. They were already looking better. She sighed in relief and used a razor to cut a small slash across her arm. A mixture of red and gold seeped through. She clamped a hand over it, then used fresh gauze to cover it. The poison's working its way out of my system. Good. She tried dismissing her wings, and it actually worked. She cleaned the wounds and put on new bandages, then threw on her sweater and sweatpants and headed back downstairs.

((It's alright!))
She returned the smile and sat next to him. "They healed enough for me to dismiss them." She rubbed the bandage covering the slash mark she made. It reminded her of the attempted suicides…
No! Bad Theresa, bad!

She gladly leaned into it. "Thanks."

She opened her mouth to say no, but stopped. "It's depressing," she warned, hoping he would forget about it.

She huffed a laugh. "My childhood was really screwed up. I was in the foster care system since I was born, bounced around from house to house because I always did something to make them upset–set a fire, grow some scales, get a little too rough when playing with other kids. I was locked in basements, sent to hospitals to see what was wrong with me, shipped off to asylums, handed over to mad scientists to do experiments, you name it, it was done to me. When I was old enough to, I ran away from most of my foster homes–lived on the streets and learned how to steal. Over twenty homes in less than 16 years." She paused, glancing up at him in the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction before she continued.