Send me "How'd you get this?" For my muses reaction to yours tracing one of their scars and asking how they got it.
To have a stranger inquire about his scars was ONE thing.
But to have a strange BEING such as this one do so.. was a whole different one. He had the opportunity to lie about what had happened to him, the scars on his NECK, his ANKLES— on the very edge of his W R I S T S; all of them looked rather familiar, similarly shaped and cut equally as deeply by a material that shared dirt back when he dragged it over the floor, following the footsteps of his master so carefully being traced by tiny feet. His curious eyes would follow him in adoration, and he had no idea how he was manipulated. To vaguely recall such memories in itself made him recall a DREAD he had not felt in ages, but once he was inquired about it he could not help it creeping up and wrapping around his heart. He attempted to be stronger than it, but he could not help it taking over.
< AFTER ALL, HE WAS DEFINED BY HIS MISERY. >
So when the breath left his lungs at the touch of cold fingers on thin scars among his neck, lids lowered and hues glared at the other individual, lips parting only for mouth to close again as he carefully considered words he would speak, a sigh being breathed carefully as he caved into the request to practically his past. He was in a place where no one could define his markings EXCEPT FOR HIM, with a being who could float and disappear at own will; he did not trust the man, but he certainly found his curiousity to be downright flattering.
"----- Chains.", he answered plainly, in a low voice filled with sorrow, ".. they are from harsh chains cut into my flesh when I was younger, when I would disobey the one who considered me mere property. He would pull the LEASH I was attached to, and it would hurt. I would cry out like a dog whose tail got stepped on, and he would soothe me in a manner which only satisfied his own desires." The volume of his voice decreased as he spoke, attempting to remain understandable, yet have it be a secret whisper that only the other would hear.
"I was not always this free.", he admitted, another exaggerated breath passing lips and lids closing only to open once more, "But now.. that is the mere past." ( A lie he told to bury whatever he could of his past, hiding it from the public eye, even if his MARKINGS would remain plain to the eye, similar intentions given when lyrium put under his skin; he would rather not keep the subject in the air, it aching whatever was left of his shattered heart. )
