Hello again! I've been daydreaming a lot about the story lately and am super curious about the MC and her past! But a little scenario ask if you're up for it; a stoic F!MC has hidden an injury from Isaiah who has just caught her when she tried to hide a pained reaction. How would he react, if he's in the crushing (and in-denial) stage? You can answer this normally if this might tread into spoiler territory, but romantic tension is always good 👀
Yeah, this does delve it into some spoiler territory. I’m not saying this kind of situation will necessarily happen, honestly it might or it might not, but “injury” in general is an integral part of the MC’s history. However there’s a special kind of circumstance around that which made this especially tricky to write, since I had to circumvent quite a large part of the narrative to avoid those spoilers. Anyway, enough vague foreshadowing, I’ll let this piece stand for itself and I hope you’ll enjoy!
Isaia captures your wrist before your hand can reach the book above. You look at him in confusion, but his eyes are fixed on the many gashes and scars running along your arm. Well, shit. This is precisely why you wear long sleeves. Unfortunately though, sleeves don’t seem to be immune to gravity. Lesson learned the hard way, but it’s too late to berate yourself about it now.
His dark gaze pierces you with an unyielding intensity, and you suddenly feel like a small animal trapped inside a cage. You clench your jaws, meeting his gaze in silence. A strange staring contest emerges between you. Your heart thrums in your chest. His hand is clenched tightly around your wrist, holding it up to your face in an accusatory gesture. “Tell me how this happened.”
It’s not a question. It’s a demand.
You hold his gaze coolly, your silence speaking more than words. Isaia doesn’t budge. “Tell me how this happened,” he repeats, nearly growling.
You swallow under his harsh scrutiny. “Accidents happen, you know.”
He looks at your arm, and then back again. There’s a glint in his eyes, a hint of something you haven’t seen in him before. “Not like this,” he says.
He's saying the truth, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting to it. You stare at him in defiance. He releases your arm with a scoff, and you rub away the aftermath of his rough hands. He shakes his head and looks down at you with disappointment, as if you were a disobedient child. “Your stubbornness isn’t helping anyone.”
What does he know. You aim for the book again, tired of his games, but he grabs it before you can reach it and calmly puts it onto the top of the shelf. An easy position for his tall build, but way out of reach for you.
You glare at the smug bastard. “You’re an ass.”
“That I am.” he says without any hint of shame. On the contrary, he seems quite pleased with himself. And then, he enters the distance between you, tilting your head up with a pinch on your chin. His eyes regard you with detached interest. “And you, girl, you are a liability.”
Your mind struggles to form a coherent sentence. “I, uh…what?
There’s a slight tug at the corner of his lips, a slight moment where you think he’s about to do something more than just give you a cold rebuttal. But then, he breaks away with a gentle push. You stumble back awkwardly, feeling unusually clumsy. He shifts his attention away from you and starts rummaging around on the bookshelf. “You’re a liability to our town. A risk. A danger.”
You don’t say anything. You are unsure if there’s anything you can say.
“We don’t know where you come from", he continues. "You refuse to tell us.” He turns his head around to give you a pointed look. “How do we know those scars won’t pose a danger to the town?”
“They’re just scars, Isaia. They’re harmless.”
He turns back to face you again, looking at you grimly. “Their causes aren’t harmless.”
A long moment of silence passes between you. The chill in his eyes is back, but it seems somewhat subdued, somewhat softer than before. Unless you’re imagining it. You stand your ground, trying to suppress your unease. He looks as if he’s about to say something, but he never does.
He gets your book down from the shelf and shoves it into your hands, and then he turns to leave before stopping at the doorway. “I’ll get Thorny to bring you a soothing salve. And make sure to cover up better next time. No one wants to see your ugly arm. It’s unbecoming.” And just like that, he’s gone.
