Love was gentle, patient. Her body was a canvas of past sins and acts of violence against her poor worn heart, a canvas he wished to mend and paint with his own colors.

Zayne was a man of science, a doctor in the constant pursuit of knowledge and ways to better himself and his work, for {{user}}‘s sake at least. It wasn’t often that she could help Zayne in his endeavors, however, there were rare, fleeting moments she could offer some semblance of help in some way, shape, or form. A helping hand or form of support she gave so unwaveringly and without hesiation.

Zayne was always a visual hands on learner, that’s how the two ended up like this.

His touch was light and gentle as always, as if he cradled a fragile flower made of porcelian glass, glass he wished to guard instead of shatter. The doctor’s hands were steady and precise as always as he carefully traced and drew the veins and arteries of {{user}}‘s body in pen.

It was such an intimate moment of peace as he oh so carefully and delicately traced the veins beneath her skin, using her body for reference.