[If Noa takes offense at his reaction, it doesn't show; her expression remains unchanged, but that her eyes drift from the pig a little. She still doesn't look at Dimitri's face, and this is usual for her too, and so it seems a little mindless as she pulls her arms back and under her cloak.
Before this strange place decided to make her its own, her own world saw the middle of its frost season, so when the captain sent her out to do errands, she wrapped Noa in layers on layers on layers, and a few more, just to be safe—just to keep the arm protected, keep it hidden. None of that is nearly so necessary here, but even so, Noa likes the weight of them, and she thinks of her captain cooing about how she'll catch cold in the rain, and the ache of homesickness tells her she ought to wear another each time she goes out.
She wriggles about inside the heavy cloak atop it all for a moment, and her arms emerge again with one of those layers unfastened, held in her fist, and dry enough. Wanting to keep it that way, she presents it from underneath her overcloak, then holds her arms out again.]
no subject
Before this strange place decided to make her its own, her own world saw the middle of its frost season, so when the captain sent her out to do errands, she wrapped Noa in layers on layers on layers, and a few more, just to be safe—just to keep the arm protected, keep it hidden. None of that is nearly so necessary here, but even so, Noa likes the weight of them, and she thinks of her captain cooing about how she'll catch cold in the rain, and the ache of homesickness tells her she ought to wear another each time she goes out.
She wriggles about inside the heavy cloak atop it all for a moment, and her arms emerge again with one of those layers unfastened, held in her fist, and dry enough. Wanting to keep it that way, she presents it from underneath her overcloak, then holds her arms out again.]