#threads | corruptedscars

[dcvium]

@corruptedscars asked:

' you're not hurt, are you? '

Hurt was a relative concept. Nimue could endure a great amount of pain and injury before she actually considered herself hurt. This was a scratch. A nick. Her arm was bleeding, she could smell it. How did Astarion stand to be around any of them when they were injured, she wondered. "I'm all right. Nothing lasting. I don't even think it will scar." Without really thinking, she reached out to lightly hook a finger under Astarion's, guiding him a bit to check for injury. "What about you? I'm no cleric, but I'm not bad at field medicine."

[dcviums]

@corruptedscars asked:

❛ to tell a story is in part to tell a lie, isn't it? ❜

"You're right." Nimue leaned back a bit, straightening, fingers currently methodically tearing apart a candle they'd found on their travels. Carving, breaking, wax falling about the dirt below her feet. "In a lot of ways, honestly. Stories can be exaggerated, bits added or left out to make them more appealing. More palatable." Like tales from bards or books. "Or, you know, we're fallible, right? We only see things how we see them and we don't always remember things correctly. It's not intentional lying, but it's kind of... I think it's called an 'unreliable narrator'?"

[dcviums]

@corruptedscars (cont.):

IT'S NOT THAT HE SHIED AWAY from the type of attention. Nevertheless, these parts of himself had been secretive for centuries, and belonged to no gaze to reach underneath his camp garb — the pale smooth skin appeared dark, jagged, with rune-like etchings spanning the entirety of his upper back. Carved deep into flesh, a permanent text written upon Astarion's body. His smile was eerie, as he was quick to turn and face towards her, ❛ I assume there's a reason for a late night visit on your part.. Is it my beauty you came to gaze upon , or you were just seeking distraction for yourself after the long day? ❜ The pallid rogue could perhaps, use either excuse and namely he was in need of greater distraction himself, as it was evident by his darkened eyes that weren't smiling, unlike his fanged mouth.

Nimue hadn't intended to catch Astarion in any kind of vulnerable state. She would have ducked her head out and gone straight back to minding her own business, had the scars not caught her attention. These weren't wounds, they were precise, patterned. A hand had risen, unbidden, as if she were going to trace the markings, though the hand got nowhere near the vampire.

Wide, brown eyes flicked to meet his crimson as he looked her way. "I'm pretty good at getting distracted, already, I think." Had she caught his meaning? Absolutely not. "I just heard you awake. I'm not... I'm not very good at sleeping, myself. I don't like my dreams." Her nose wrinkled at the thought, a little frown forming before she shook it all away.

"I can leave, I'm sorry. I just--- are you okay?" It wasn't like the marks upon his back were fresh wounds, but it still seemed like a lot. "That was probably a stupid question. And vague. Really vague. It's just... your scars. Were they intentional? Like scarification?"