Stella stands outside of Marec's quarters, her palm resting on the closed door. She let out a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She'd been away on a mission for the Brotherhood for so long, she didn't even know what had happened back on the Prydwen in the meantime. Would he even still want her? Taking another deep breath, she rapped her knuckles on the heavy steel door, and waited.
“Come In.” Merek said, not fully prepared for who exactly was going to walk through that door. Truth be told he missed Stella, a lot. But he was trying his best to not let it effect him and his duties.
When the door finally opened he briefly glanced up from his terminal, but had to stop himself and stare at her with wide eyes. “S-Stella…?”
Stella stops his hands from wandering for a moment, taking them into hers and giving them a squeeze.
“I need to show you something important, first.” She says quietly, a hint of anxiety in her voice once again. She lifts his hands up, palm up, letting him know to hold them like that so she could put something in them, apparently.
She began to unzip the leather jacket she was wearing, tugging it off and draping it over the back of a nearby chair. She wore a cream coloured military-style tank top beneath, and you could see the wide array of scars all across her arms and shoulders.
More impressively, now, was her right arm; it bore a brand new tattoo that covered three-quarters of her arm. It depicted the Norse god Tyr, with his arm getting bit off by the giant wolf Fenrir, and the ensuing battle during Ragnarok. Around her bicep she wore an intricate arm band, the jewels seeming to shimmer and glow in the dim light of the Prydwen’s chambers.
She ran her left hand over her wrist, idly tracing out the runes and patterns inked into her arm before she took a hold of it just under her forearm. With a twist that would have broken any normal person’s bone, her arm /detached/ with a soft sigh, the band around her arm seeming to dim almost.
She set the prosthetic into Marec’s hands, what remained of her arm ending just below her elbow, the skin still red and irritated looking, despite having been expertly cauterized and taken care of. How recent was the amputation?
Her eyes were downcast, looking at anything but her amputated arm and the freakishly real prosthetic that now sat in Marec’s hands. It was clearly something she was still struggling with.
Marec waited patiently and watched with awe. The tattoo looked amazing, and fit so well. His expression suddenly changed into one of pure surprise as she detached her arm and handed it to him.
“Stella…” He muttered, “First off this certainly changes nothing. I still love the hell out of you. And Second, who or whatever did that to you is going to die. If they already are, I will go down to hell and drag them back up so I can kill them again.” As he added that it was obvious he both meant it and didn't. Because he figured she had no doubt already done that.
Handing the prosthetic back to her and waited till she reconnected it before pulling her into a gentle embrace. “It doesn't change how I feel about you at all. Nothing will, ever.”
