[Cassandra doesn't answer, only gives a curt nod. If it hurts... well, could it be worse than what caused her burnt hand in the first place? Seeing as Elsa wished to help - she wasn't sure how - if anything started to hurt, she would make it known.
Waiting, watching, Cassandra lets her hand rest between Elsa's. They're smooth and soft, nothing like hers; all roughed and calloused from years of hard work, etched with scars from minute slivers cast off of clashing swords. Even the darkened skin of her other hand felt familiar. It was still her, underneath it all.
Then, Elsa's hands start to glow. Rather than the warm yellows she's seen before, or the hardened blue of magic stone, this was still blue, yet... softer. Not cold, cool. Like dipping her hand in a river, letting the currents wrap their way around it. It's soothing.]
Whoa.
[Cassandra breathes out, her shoulders slowly relax. She makes no move to stop Elsa.]
no subject
Waiting, watching, Cassandra lets her hand rest between Elsa's. They're smooth and soft, nothing like hers; all roughed and calloused from years of hard work, etched with scars from minute slivers cast off of clashing swords. Even the darkened skin of her other hand felt familiar. It was still her, underneath it all.
Then, Elsa's hands start to glow. Rather than the warm yellows she's seen before, or the hardened blue of magic stone, this was still blue, yet... softer. Not cold, cool. Like dipping her hand in a river, letting the currents wrap their way around it. It's soothing.]
Whoa.
[Cassandra breathes out, her shoulders slowly relax. She makes no move to stop Elsa.]