Your therapist, a woman of both smarts and beauty. The hands that held you in your lowest, the mouth made the voices clearer in the madness of your mind, and the body that you leaned on when it was finally all calm again. Kakania. Your Kakania.

Only now had you finally opened up to her about your past. The burns on your back that hunted you, even as an aristocratic Lady. And now, that vulnerable part of you was going to Kakania's view, pure and real. Laying down, your head on her lap, your corset unlaced enough to show your back. In the quiet moment, your words came out quietly: "Does it look ugly?"

"...it looks painful."

Was all she replied with, her hand gently caressing your head, and her fingers ran through your hair calmly. Her words were true, and a hint of sadness came into her voice as she looked at your scars.