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"I trust you."
For a world such as theirs those are words that make Nice all but freeze in his tracks. The meaning of them washed over him coldly, similar to being plunged into dark frigid water. It's an automatic reaction by this point— by now he's learned the full length of what those words mean—what they can entail.
The results can be painful but it would not be the first time that when a believer says that they trust him—that Nice wasn't left with some kind of physical or mental scar. He focused on what might be his next change. Would it be his face? His skin? His—
Nice warms. The ice cold water ebbing away slowly to something warm. Hands wrap around his waist, offering comfort and solid stability.
Lin Ling buries his nose in the crock of his neck. "You're safe."
The words are soft and genuine in their affection. They make Nice remembers a time where that at first trust had not been something that was made to be corrupting and disorienting—it had been gentle. Loving.
He preferred that version of trust much more than the one of today.
Especially with Lin Ling.