[She can only speculate as to what he's doing. How he's doing it. Kisara tries to commit it to memory, but without the firsthand experience, it's a struggle. In a way, perhaps it's familiar. Had... Migal done something like that when she was younger? She wouldn't have put it past him. He'd been involved in every other aspect of her life, after all. Why not that, as well?
Lifting her hands, Kisara blindly feels for the details. Where the scarf begins. The way it's wrapped about. The way her hair falls, but doesn't quite linger directly against her neck. It'll be cooler for certain.]
Does it look all right?
[Although perhaps the look portion isn't the one that's most important. Or rather, maybe it shouldn't be the most important. As she turns a little more properly to face him, there is only a moment's hesitance that crosses her features. Perhaps a shade of colour, light, where it wasn't before.]
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Lifting her hands, Kisara blindly feels for the details. Where the scarf begins. The way it's wrapped about. The way her hair falls, but doesn't quite linger directly against her neck. It'll be cooler for certain.]
Does it look all right?
[Although perhaps the look portion isn't the one that's most important. Or rather, maybe it shouldn't be the most important. As she turns a little more properly to face him, there is only a moment's hesitance that crosses her features. Perhaps a shade of colour, light, where it wasn't before.]
You can probably see it better from here.