Ah. So she does not have a sex life. That won't be a fruitful avenue, but there are other kinds of bright sensation.

"Has anyone ever played with your hair before?"

"... Why would I want that?" 

"So no."

She raises a hand. 

"May I demonstrate why that has not happened for you?"

She bites on her back teeth. 

... She is strong. 

She can endure it, whatever it is. 

"... You may."

Kumi slowly lays her hand on the side of Ember's head. 

She freezes.

Kumi strokes her scalp very gently, letting her scarlet hair run through her hand. 

Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke.

... She's never been touched so gently.

It feels good.

Kumi traces a finger around Ember's ear, and then slips her fingers deeper into her hair, taking long, smooth strokes. Her other hand comes up and joins in the petting.

She feels warm, and embarrassed, and a little floaty... 

It fills up so much space. So much of her mind is just occupied with the simple, smooth motions. 

... she feels vulnerable.

She forces herself to stay.

Kumi strokes and massages all along Ember's scalp. Soft and sweet. No scratches; she doesn't want to muddle the message. Just very gentle pets. 

A small smile comes to her lips.

Ember closes her eyes, focusing on the sensation. She's too weak to do anything else. 

It feels soft and bright and steady and beautiful. 

It makes her want to curl up and rest under soft covers. 

She's never been so weak, and yet it doesn't hurt. 

It doesn't hurt hardly at all.

This poor woman clearly hasn't had any form of real intimacy for years. 

She will stroke and touch and pet her for as long as she needs.

She falls into it a little. 

It's so bright. 

And it's going to last so long. As long as she needs to make it feel real.

Eventually Ember finds herself leaning a little against Kumi. She doesn't remember making the decision to do that. She wouldn't have chosen to do that. It just sort of... happened. 

She pulls away as soon as she realizes it.

Kumi smiles sadly at her. "Too much touch?"

"... Yes."

She runs a hand through her own hair. 

It's not the same. 

"... Everyone outside Nidal gets to have that?"

"Yes, and brighter things still. You remember the blackberries. The garden. Everything you would dismiss as fripperies. They exist to bring pleasure, of one kind or another. It is each and every bit as deep as pain."

... 

She's been decieved, all along. 

The evidence is inescapable. 

She closes her eyes and takes slow breaths.

Kumi very slowly reaches out, not quite touching her. 

"May I continue?"

She nods just the barest amount.

Then she can have more soft scalp massage.

She cries, eventually. 

It's not awful though. It feels like cutting her skin. It feels like a release. 

The hurt passes, and the pleasure remains. 

Poor, poor woman.

She's safe now, though. 

She'll make sure of it.

"I'd like to stay with you," she says. "Help with your designs. I'm no good at sketching but I can tell you what I think of them. Or you can rest in the bed, and I'll stroke your hair some more."