dim light coming from single lamp in bedroom but eyesight good enough to notice patches of skin different from rest on lover's back, body slightly lifting itself up by elbow, manicured nails tracing its way through rough spots. " those are so clean scars, wolfling ~ . " is demoness sole comment, eyes closing slightly, gazing down... " do they still hurt? " question comes as her own always, always burn. (from Nyx ofc!)
It’s become such a common occurrence for her to end up battered and beaten. Truthfully, it probably started ever since she was a child. She’s always been prone to playfully roughhousing with other kids, as well as diving into fights to protect an innocent person who was being bullied.
She’s no stranger to fights; they have simply gotten more intense and dangerous as she’s gotten older. It doesn’t help that she’s a pretty reckless fighter. She doesn’t go about it methodically or figure out the best ways to prevent herself from getting injured. She’s strong, but she’s hotheaded and quick to act, which is why her back is currently riddled with slowly healing scars.
The pleasant feeling of long nails on her skin draws her attention back, peering over her shoulder. A short, breathy chuckle escapes her lips at the question. It’s a reasonable thing to ask, but if she’s being honest, she almost forgot about the scars until Nyx pointed them out.
Maybe she’s just become a bit numb to wounds at this point. She’s not too sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.
“Not really. Just stings a little.” Her voice is low and slightly hoarse, loud enough only for Nyx to hear. She turns to better face her, long fingers curling around the hand that had been tenderly stroking her back. She lifts it up, so that she can kiss the palm of her hand.
“But…” She murmurs, lips lingering on her skin as she looks down at her with heavy, half-closed eyes. Only after a moment does she lower Nyx’s hand, so that she can loosely pin her arm against the pillow and entwine their fingers together. She leans over her, messy, red locks falling forward and partly shielding her face from view.
“I like it when you worry about me.” It comes out in a warm whisper against the corner of Nyx’s mouth, which she gives a soft kiss to. Her mouth trails up further, placing lazy kisses along the way, until she reaches her ear. The sweet scent that she’s come to adore draws a slow sigh from her, followed by a request. “Do it more.”