[ disturbing. wren cuts herself off, arms at the ready to catch his balance, if need be --
there isn't. her eyes widen, mouth filters open in but a moment's fear before it becomes clear: no new wound.
maker, what manner of illusion had held it at bay? she's not unfamiliar with such extensive scarring, none who have gone against mages are, but to ever guess it upon his own skin?
there's no need to belabour the obvious: i can do this to you, at any time. they're both aware. the impulse remains, and she might feel the barest shame for it were he not who he is to gwenaelle. who he intends to become to her.
it's a brief business to undo her sash. she stoops, offers it over. it's as much practicality as courtesy: they can't take him past the servants like this. ]
Further into the garden, I think; a few hours. And I will show you how it is most often concealed.
no subject
Some sort of rhyme. The contents were,
[ disturbing. wren cuts herself off, arms at the ready to catch his balance, if need be --
there isn't. her eyes widen, mouth filters open in but a moment's fear before it becomes clear: no new wound.
maker, what manner of illusion had held it at bay? she's not unfamiliar with such extensive scarring, none who have gone against mages are, but to ever guess it upon his own skin?
there's no need to belabour the obvious: i can do this to you, at any time.
they're both aware. the impulse remains, and she might feel the barest shame for it were he not who he is to gwenaelle. who he intends to become to her.
it's a brief business to undo her sash. she stoops, offers it over. it's as much practicality as courtesy: they can't take him past the servants like this. ]
Further into the garden, I think; a few hours. And I will show you how it is most often concealed.
[ the magebane. not his super fucked up face. ]