Digital Devil Saga, Argilla/Sera, a quiet comfort
Sera's voice is sweet even when she talks, and it stumbles sometimes, moving in a natural rhythm. Argilla lays with her head on the girl's lap and listens, Sera's slender fingers combing through her hair.
It's probably because she's so relaxed, lulled to lazy indulgence, that when Sera pauses and looks down and she looks up the motion of lifting her head so their lips meet is natural. If she'd thought about it she would have wondered why. She would have wondered what.
But this--this works. This is the softness of Sera's hands, freezing on her skin and then slowly, tentatively sliding down her neck. She moves like she's afraid, but her eyes are wide and full of light, gentle. Argilla cups her jaw, goes on instinct and the way Sera shivers when a sniper's calluses catch on her soft skin.
Going on Sera's hands on her back, and the warmth, and the song in the voice as she cries out, back arching helplessly. The sound eases the rough roiling edges of Prithvi that linger still under Argilla's skin, slip her into a patient wonder, slow--kisses--that make them both sigh into the quiet.
Peace, Argilla might have thought, if she had known what it was.