“You are not being morbid…” He whispered, intent on the closeness of the situation. As far as he could tell, they were effectively cuddling while sitting up. And as her hand pressed against his, wrapping cerulean in green, he made no effort to move or shift. Instead, his thumb pressed against the tattoo and moved in circular motions. “You don’t need to apologize. I can understand how you feel…” He tilted his head as a thumb shifted to fingers, moving the back of his nails down her cheek.
“This isn’t entirely my body, not in terms of proportions. Some of the original parts remain but other pieces…” He lifted his free hand to his temple, indicating toward the eyes. “Have been replaced with other living creatures. Living and breathing, attached and forced upon me. But I get the impression that the gradual nature of my shift made the transition…easier. Though…”
He smiled. “Have you considered getting markings of your own? It would be difficult to replicate the scar you received but tattoos are an entirely different matter. Perhaps that wouldn’t feel earned, but they would be you.” He lifted the cup to his mouth, taking a sip, as her communication device began to chirp steadily.
Somewhere out in the storm, a beacon had been recharged and initiated. And despite the interruption of the storm, it was clear that someone was out there in the haze. Molten orbs transitioned down to her hand, the one placed on his leg, as the device continued to chime. Setting the tea back down, his free hand moved to scratch across the top of her hand. “If you can feel that, then you are no stranger in this body. It is yours, for as long as you desire it to be.”