it’s a thing he does after sparring; a testimony to he himself as victor. he revels in these marks upon his body, yet refuses to have aid from any other person. these are his rewards for being crowned superior, for practicing to a fine point. master luke had nodded in the end, satisfied with their training, and ben had grinned, pride welling in his chest. but the bruises upon his torso, his arms, stand out as tunic is removed. it is laid out upon a smoothed rock in the courtyard, sun warming such battered and pale skin. thumbs rub at them, a sigh escaping him as the pain starts to grow and then ebb away, as if freeing his body from the trappings of hurt.it’s no surprise that he feels her, fingers stopping in their movements, he turns from where he is sat on the ground, watching the other come closer with a small smile upon his lips. hands return to their work, erasing the pain that aches and throbs with something close to peace. ‘ you know, you don’t have to sneak up on me like that. ‘laughter, fondness, echoes in his voice as head bows, fingers pressing more insistently against a greenish bruise across his upper arm. they knead the flesh until a hiss leaves clenched teeth, jaw slowly parting as a sigh quickly follows. ‘ i don’t think your father would approve of it. ‘
