<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Ravi;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;"><strong>Name</strong>: Dormouse<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Lost<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: <em>Mock.</em><br/><br/><br/>Generous. She wasn't sure that word should be applied to her, she was more of the mind that words like 'petrified', 'meek', 'timid' and 'naive' would fit much better. His praise, so generous in its giving, summoned the softness of a rose blush to her cheeks, a gentling to her eyes. Though when he mentioned ghosts she shuddered, gold and grey eyes flashing with fear. But he proposed to dowse fears, and that would be rather lovely. It would indeed. Her throat worked as he touched her, but it was gentle, toying with her hair and blunting the edge of her terror with such a simple act. The petite girl trembled when his hand cupped her cheek but she turned her large, tear bright eyes back to meet his gaze again, hope flashing in her gaze when he smoothed away her tears. <br/><br/>"You do not seem fearful... but loss, yes, loss is haunting, sometimes stalking. It... you are clever, the flow of your words." Admiration mingled in her tone, the first strain in it that was between the fear and slender hope, expressing an emotion that had largely been cast aside for wont of more extreme feelings. Gentle emotions though, those were what lay best upon her soul, her heart. "What do you atone for?"<br/><br/>The question slipped past her lips before she could think to pause it, questing, inquisitive, more emotions, not bad, not painful. That was good, and he seemed... good as well. At least for now. Indeed the Mouse found herself almost sand when his long fingers left her hair but instead he sat, the sound of his keys like discordant heralding to the motion and then his arms were around her shoulders, promising no hurt and she went, obeying that "<em>Come come</em>" that came from lips she was beginning to find beguiling. <br/><br/>And so into the man's lap she went, her small body readily fitting in against his, and the angular, the muscular feel of his form in juxtaposition to her own softness felt rather right.  "Fits..." she mused aloud, as if not quiet able to believe, feeling his cheek upon her hair, his heat around her form, warming a coldness she had not realized she had carried within the house when he saved her. Some lingering stiffness had come into his lap but it melted as he began to sing, his voice caressing over her and leading to her becoming a pliant, cuddly little Mouse in his arms, even nuzzling his chest, demurely inhaling his scent as she savored this feeling. Yes, this was right, held, safe, alone. He was not a stranger, no, she had his name and names meant things... things she couldn't remember. But good things, she hoped. <br/><br/>Mock's song was almost haunting but it was not something to rouse fear, rather a wistful sigh upon her full lips, a tilting of her head to gaze up at him with that inquisitive, hopeful light in her eyes. "That was... beautiful sir, so enthralling, enchanting. Your voice... its simply wonderful." Yes, Mouse had found someone to cling to, someone she liked and now her whole being was centered on him, admiring, affectionate in a shy way.</span></span>