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"No!" She yelled back, "Not pretty enough. Never pretty enough. No one likes an ugly girl. That's why they took me. They didn't need a pretty girl." Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked him in the eyes, "No one likes scars. Scars make me ugly. Even God don't want me. Gotta be prettier. Pretty girls are loved."

She ripped her bracelets off, the thick white scars on both wrists.

She pulled her hair up, tearing out some of her bangs to show her scars.

She pulled her skirt up, showing him the twisted scars along her legs.

"Scars make me ugly. Even. God. Don't. Want. Me!"

Micco looked over her body, and saw nothing wrong. The scars excited him. Scars meant something completely different to him. He released her shoulders, and unzipped the hoodie to push it away. Already, she could see the scars. The plethora of human surgical scars, looking like he had been ripped into tiny pieces and reassembled bit by bit...every cruel curved line, torn valley dotted along the sides with suture scars, bones in his ribcage seemed misplaced or misshapen. She could see metal plates under his flesh, holding bits of him together. "Am ugly?" He said it as both a statement of fact and a question somehow. "I..am uglier. I...am broken. I am...not right. Uglier than thou."

He reached for her wrists, gripping them as he examined the scars, and then lifted her arms to bring those marks to his broken lips. He kissed them. "Not ugly...Beautiful. Alluring. Prefect." He spoke louder now, excitedly. "Marks...are...perfection. Imperfections...fleeing...the body. Make Perfect." He spoke tenderly, in those broken words of his. "They make...Beautiful..One day. God...not understand...what he missed."

No'ah listened to Micco, regarding his body. It was strangely beautiful to her. Addicting in the imperfections. When he had loosened his grip on her wrists, she placed her hands on his chest, feeling the lines bisecting him. She traced them, taking in each new spot separately.

There was a terrifying light of wonder in her eyes as she relished his strange body.

Micco reminded still and allowed her to explore him.

As it was only fair, he was exploring her.

She was curious to him, why she did not excite the Disquiet from him.

Why did she not hate him? All other humans hated him just by his presence.

All life was repulsed by him. So why was she able to touch him?

She filled his mind with questions, questions he felt where drastically important to know the answer to.

But for how, he looked at how she looked at him. And knew that look. He had seen lovers look at one another in this manner. And Micco reacted exactly as he had been seen...

He leaned forward and pressed his broken, scarred lips to hers.

Something of her had died on the cross. Her soul was in pieces, jagged shards within her heart.

The kiss woke something in her, a little bit of hope that had long since been dead and buried, bringing it to life.

It wasn't a comfortable kiss - his lips were far from a perfect fit with hers, but she threw her arms around him, not daring the break it yet. She needed this, needed the hope he gave her. She closed her eyes and relaxed, feeling comfortable in her own skin.

Micco's strong arms tightened around her, wrapping about her firmly. He has never been in such close contact. But his body knew what to do. He lifted her with the strength of his embracing arms alone.

He hadn't experienced something like this before. His body felt raw, savage, needy...after all, even though he wasn't human, he was still MADE of a human body. And some things came naturally no matter your composition.

He broke the kiss, and lowered her back, looking at her. His face was confused...he didn't know where to go from here.

No'ah looked at him, "Uh, wow." She felt light-headed, faint. She looked up at him, "What's your name?" She laughed a bit, wanting nothing more than to connect with him again. She wasn't sure why. He was revolting in looks, but she just... wanted him, "I'm No'ah. It's the female form of Noah."

Micco looked at her, "No'ah....From the...biblical." He spoke something, his voice without pauses now as he spoke fluent Latin. He was reciting a passage about Noah, but he doubted she would understand. Then he spoke to her, "I'm...Micco. Micco Levitas." He nodded to her, leaning his head to rest it on her forehead. "Means...to...Spark...Lightning. In...Latin." He gave her a small fragile smile, his mouth lopsided. "What...now?"

No'ah lead him to her room, curling up on the nest of pillows, looking up at him, "Come here for a cuddle." She closed her eyes and yawned. She didn't feel as insecure now. She felt good. She patted the spot next to her, practically purring.

"Cuddle?" Micco, a beast that had never knew affection from anything, not even his creator, was confused. He limped his way to her room, looking curiously at her. She wanted him near her it seemed. He reasoned this must be because of this cuddling activity. He moved and laid on the pillow, laying close to her, but stiffly. He looked over at her helplessly, he didn't seem to understand what she wanted.

No'ah moved in close, lightly restin her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, relaxing. She headn't been near a person in years. Since before. She threw her arm over him, pressing herself into him, running a finger over his scars.

He shivered as his scars where touched. Micco, at a loss for what to do, mimicked her. He let his chin chest on her brow, as he curved his body to match hers carefully. He tried to mirror her arm about him, slipping the big limb around her back and waist. Was this what she wanted? He hoped so.

No'ah nuzzled her face into his chest and let out a sigh, "Nice." She murmured, her chest rising and falling as she fell asleep there. She felt comfortable, safe, warm. It was her first time listening to someone else lay next to her. It was somewhat magical all on its own.

Micco replied to her softly, listening to the single word she spoke. He simple let out a throaty, "Hrrrmmm?" But he was drifting now, eased into a comfortable state. His nervousness was fleeting, as he slowly worked rough fingers over her curves. He had never had the opportunity to touch a woman in this manner. They where different, softer...curvy...and touching called to old memories. He might've been made of many people, not all off them even the same gender. But all his pieces had some muscle memories...and all of those ingrained instincts knew sex.

And that provoked another previously un-experienced reaction in him...one that made him tense and go ramrod still, as he stared down at himself uncomfortably, wondering why his body chose to betray himself so.