[Xingchen doesn't remember what his hands looked like before. The general state of them, yes: pale, fingers long but strong, callouses from years of swordplay. Now, though, they look...thinner. Harder. He needs to clean under his nails quite badly.
He's only really looked at his hands in these few moments since gaining a fresh pair of eyes. Despite making the wish, he almost feels ashamed of begging for something he doesn't deserve. So, when he feels a horribly familiar presence nearby, and then that voice reaches him - and speaking such funny words - he automatically closes his eyes and turns his head toward the speaker. This is more familiar to him now, navigating in the dark.
Except even the darkness is new after these years, after existing in a visionless void.
He doesn't think he can handle looking at Xue Yang again. Not yet.]
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He's only really looked at his hands in these few moments since gaining a fresh pair of eyes. Despite making the wish, he almost feels ashamed of begging for something he doesn't deserve. So, when he feels a horribly familiar presence nearby, and then that voice reaches him - and speaking such funny words - he automatically closes his eyes and turns his head toward the speaker. This is more familiar to him now, navigating in the dark.
Except even the darkness is new after these years, after existing in a visionless void.
He doesn't think he can handle looking at Xue Yang again. Not yet.]
...Indeed.