"Euh, I'm just helping you change…" Ludwig muttered, holding out the bundle of clothes like an awkward offering between strangers. His voice came softer than expected, not from timidity but from caution, his tone weighed by everything they had endured. The garments hung from his outstretched hands like a banner of truce, their drab cloth folded neatly, despite the blood and grime that still clung to the world around them.
Celine's gaze, dimmed but no longer vacant, flickered toward him. Her eyes returned to normal, or as normal as her situation can allow, one pale jade, the other clouded with the red hue of the Wrath's influence, they did not narrow or blink, only hovered on the clothes for a long, silent second. Then, without word or gesture of thanks, she reached out and took them, pressing them against her chest as if they were armor. Not from shame, but from instinct. From habit.
