Look Ma, One Hand (Yaksha/Sofia)

Yaksha walked after her, still with that atavistic prowl that only a hollow could truly get down; it brought to mind what a dinosaur would've managed had it ever developed the upright swagger that an ape did, or like a shark that had grown legs. He radiated calm composure with every step as he followed after her, towards the stage, setting himself just behind her, and clearing his throat.

He began to sing, just behind her, in rich tones that washed over everyone present like warm honey. People in attendance were already weeping as they listened to the duo, mournfully and expertly filling the empty silence with beauty and structure, creating a place of comfort and delight within the dreadful reality of violence and bleak doubt that surrounded them all. Like an oasis in the desert, everyone present felt refreshed from the company of the two, until Yaksha finally rose, and leaned closer to Sofia, whispering in her ear.

"Oh, how we danced. I never did get to dance in Hueco Mundo. Unless you count hopscotch, but that's hardly even a dance."

As he spoke, there was a faint, oddly unsettling organic sound from behind him; it was hard to put into words, except that it sounded very much like someone crumpling up a bag full of something wet and very much alive, instead of flimsy or crunchy. It went on for nearly a minute, before he reached over with one hand, holding between two fingers...a very white, very clawed hand, as one would've expected to see from an ancient dinosaur or something similar. Or for Sofia, one she no doubt would've spotted as familiar immediately.

Yaksha let it drop to the ground, just in front of her, and let out a soft, dry chuckle, just once.

"Would you like it back? I honestly only bothered regrowing it because I thought you had left us. I'm certain I can accustom myself to the life of having but a single arm again. Now that I am truly a wolf amongst sheep, one less hand makes such a tiny difference."