Relaxing is a big ask, and one he might not be capable of. The flinch when touched is expected, it may take years to unravel that particular aversion but he doesn't jerk away, long practice meaning he knows better. Even that flinch won't repeat, every potential motion squelched as best as he's capable of.
"..Have been for a while." It helped! A lot! And with more than just the things that may or may not be wings growing, nectar helped the general ache of adolescence too. What's the point of having something if it's not being made use of? And without any connection whatsoever to the Professor or Shinra, it was easier to do without feeling unsettled by it.
He knows what Angeal's going for, such recommendations had been part of more than one course on battlefield first aid and rescue. "I don't know how you're okay with this." That's not what Angeal suggested, and it's threaded with a note of painfully obvious bleakness that manages to actually make him sound like the kid he is and not the trained killer he was made to be. "Any of it. Doesn't it bother you? ..Any of you?"
Was it simply training, or was it some impossible level of acceptance that he couldn't even begin to emulate? No wonder he was seen as a child, cowering as children do, afraid of the unknown when the adults simply accept it as a part of life and move on.
"...I don't need distraction," he adds after a moment, choosing determination and stubborness as best he can, waiting for the sharp edge of the knife. One of them; there'd been several brought down besides his own. "I've been through much worse pain than just a knife." Angeal would know that though, if he was close to his future self. He can hold fairly still, but the impulse to flex the encased limbs was relentless and strong, strangled into a quiver and little more.
It's going to be harder than it should be to get through even the softer skin under a lifted scale, a durability that, while nowhere near the toughness a SOLDIER could enjoy at the peak of their strength is still beyond what a human should possess, or perhaps even the amalgamation of dragon they've become. And any wound doesn't bleed ... quite as long as it should, either. Weak, unused muscles had no chance of ever breaking through, should have days ago if they could.
Bad timing, having even a small part of the enhancements mako and Jenova afforded him choosing to return just as biology would have wished more fragility to allow for easier fledging.
no subject
"..Have been for a while." It helped! A lot! And with more than just the things that may or may not be wings growing, nectar helped the general ache of adolescence too. What's the point of having something if it's not being made use of? And without any connection whatsoever to the Professor or Shinra, it was easier to do without feeling unsettled by it.
He knows what Angeal's going for, such recommendations had been part of more than one course on battlefield first aid and rescue. "I don't know how you're okay with this." That's not what Angeal suggested, and it's threaded with a note of painfully obvious bleakness that manages to actually make him sound like the kid he is and not the trained killer he was made to be. "Any of it. Doesn't it bother you? ..Any of you?"
Was it simply training, or was it some impossible level of acceptance that he couldn't even begin to emulate? No wonder he was seen as a child, cowering as children do, afraid of the unknown when the adults simply accept it as a part of life and move on.
"...I don't need distraction," he adds after a moment, choosing determination and stubborness as best he can, waiting for the sharp edge of the knife. One of them; there'd been several brought down besides his own. "I've been through much worse pain than just a knife." Angeal would know that though, if he was close to his future self. He can hold fairly still, but the impulse to flex the encased limbs was relentless and strong, strangled into a quiver and little more.
It's going to be harder than it should be to get through even the softer skin under a lifted scale, a durability that, while nowhere near the toughness a SOLDIER could enjoy at the peak of their strength is still beyond what a human should possess, or perhaps even the amalgamation of dragon they've become. And any wound doesn't bleed ... quite as long as it should, either. Weak, unused muscles had no chance of ever breaking through, should have days ago if they could.
Bad timing, having even a small part of the enhancements mako and Jenova afforded him choosing to return just as biology would have wished more fragility to allow for easier fledging.