[ For a fleeting fraction of a second, while Malkuth goes still, Yesod's fingers — too convincing and disconcerting an illusion — maintain the contact. They register more than he expects, once again, presumably because the cloaking technology is designed to enable its user to blend in with ordinary humans, possibly even simulating certain sensory receptors to ensure appropriate responses to one's surroundings. Malkuth's tears, turning her lashes wet and tracking thin glistening trails down her cheeks, mix with the blood coating Yesod's thumb.
And then Malkuth recoils, as if to jerk away from a blow or a scorching flame or the bite of an unpleasantly cold surface. Yesod's hand remains outstretched a moment longer, giving it the appearance of reaching for Malkuth, beckoning to her. The sight is, without a doubt, as strange as the touch that came before it — Yesod is acutely aware of it himself.
Finally, he lowers his hand. His body lacks a heart, but something clenches where it might reside, his mind all too capable of emotion, and he recognizes this powerlessness. ]
no subject
And then Malkuth recoils, as if to jerk away from a blow or a scorching flame or the bite of an unpleasantly cold surface. Yesod's hand remains outstretched a moment longer, giving it the appearance of reaching for Malkuth, beckoning to her. The sight is, without a doubt, as strange as the touch that came before it — Yesod is acutely aware of it himself.
Finally, he lowers his hand. His body lacks a heart, but something clenches where it might reside, his mind all too capable of emotion, and he recognizes this powerlessness. ]
...That was my choice as well.
[ But it has accomplished nothing positive. ]