“Scars?” He asked gently, his eyes flickering up to her face. His cheeks were still faintly dusted pink but that was the only indicator of his previous fluster. “I understand that… we all have scars we’d rather be left hidden.”
Slowly, he gave her back her arm, his fingertips buzzing from where he had touched her soft skin. He couldn’t figure out what he was feeling, nor why she made him feel such strange emotions. He wasn’t complaining. They felt good.
“I was a little concerned, please forgive me for that unneeded touch.”
She glanced down at her arm, fingers trailing over where his had as she looked back up at him. “You do not need to apologize. I just find it surprising, that anyone would worry about me at all.” She admitted softly, shifting half a step closer to him. “Those bandages are just to cover the scars. Sadly, I’m a fan of short sleeves, so they’re kind of necessary. It’s lucky I don’t wear short shirts too often, though.”
“You are cared for here. I do not turn away anyone who is harmed, noble or not.” His eyes flickered across her face for a moment, an unreadable emotion in them. “Wouldn’t you be cold in a short skirt?” He asked, willing his face not to heat up. Amira might not have realized it but she was really testing his ability to look put together.
“I assume the looks you’d get wouldn’t be too fun either… I wouldn’t want anyone staring at me.” Nordali leaned over to brush a strand of her hair out of the way of her face. “Would you like something to tie your hair back with?”
“Right now? Maybe a bit chilly. I don’t usually get cold though.” Amira said, shrugging a shoulder. She smiled up at him as he brushed her hair back, biting her bottom lip for a moment and willing the blush from her cheeks. Attempting to at least. “I don’t mind the looks. People tend to stare, for a variety of reasons, and apparently my appearance is one of them.” She sounded dubious but resigned to that fact, like she couldn’t see what they saw but knew they saw it. “I was considering attempting to braid it, but I figured it might be easier to leave it down. I’m not the best at braiding.”
He took another glance over her and nodded gently. “I would think you’re a little cold. I forgot I am a little bigger than you.” He admitted with a sheepish grin. “Well, you are quite fair, and beautiful.” He told her with a curt nod. “Very much so.”
His face lit up at the mentioning of braiding. “You know, Shah taught me how to braid. I could braid your hair if you would like,” he offered with a kind smile. When he had first found Shah, she had been working as a servant. She offered him a place to stay and a meal to eat, hidden away in the barn with the horses and cattle. He had hated it at first, his rich and pampered blood not knowing the pain of a simple man’s life.
Oh but how had he grown to love it with her. She taught him how to braid his hair correctly so it stayed out of his face, how to scavenge for food when need be, how to survive out in the world.
Shah was the first person he asked to join his guild. She and a few of the other servants agreed and they, together, stole what they needed from the house and left in the night.
“It wouldn’t be too much of a hassle. I usually have Shah help me when I can’t quite get mine to listen but I’m good enough at it.”
((I just realized I fucked up. she wears bandages over her arms but her sCAR. im changing my mind ig, only one arm is bandaged that way, the other is half bandaged, mostly on the hand))
Her cheeks flamed as he called her beautiful, a deep red against bronze, but her eyes belied just how happy that compliment made her. "You can absolutely braid my hair." Especially if it makes you glow like that. She nodded, returning his smile with an added dash of brightness that lit up her face. "I've never been very good at braiding. My-one of the other servant girls tried to teach me, but I was hopeless. My hands are better built for bombs."
She lifted her hands, waggling her fingers before shaking her hands. Her fingers were long and sort of slender, almost but not quite like a pianist's. They were covered in callouses and bits of burned skin and scars, obviously built well. She was a string player, after all. "Who's Shah?"
(Ooohhh thank you for the information!!!!!)))
He gave her a genuine smile and laughed softly. “Wonderful! I can braid it whenever you’d like.” He gestured at his desk chair and hummed lightly. “If you’d like to sit you may. And don’t worry too much about braiding. It’s surprisingly difficult, I found.” He chuckled lightly and stole her fingers away in his hands, smiling lightly at them as he studied every callous and scar.
“Shah was the older woman in here when we first met. The one who requested some fabric. She’s a wonderful women, feels like a grandmother to me.”
She blinked as he took her hands, watching him study them with a curious and confused furrow to her brows. It was strange, the attention he payed to her scars. And such kind attention, too, something they had never seen before. “She sounds lovely.” She said, smiling softly at him. Taking his momentary distraction to study his features herself, she found the same butterfly wings trapped in her stomach. “And She was great when I met her.”
His soft facial features curved gracefully, his entire body the same way. There seemed to be a certain malnourishment to him, however, almost as if he had eaten well for most of his life and was suddenly thrown into a chaotic eating schedule. Which he was.
His eyes were more narrow than many of the other’s around, and his nose hooked slightly at the end. Overall he was well built and would probably look regal if he wasn’t so tense and slouched all the time.
“Oh she was always lovely. Still is. I would gladly die to protect her and everyone here. This is my family. They treat me well and I do my best to lead them.”
Positively beautiful. Hunched and scowling or not, he was still ethereal to Amira, who was used to the tall and solid build of her people. They had been warriors and nomads once upon a time, thin but built well, until they began to settle and farm and build, gaining muscle mass that was passed on. Amira had ended up with some recessive gene that left her shorter than all her family, and rounder, until she had left and become more the wiry muscle of her ancestors.
“That must be nice.” She said quietly, her smile slightly wistful and sad. “To have built a family like this.”
As for Nordali, he found her absolutely breathtaking. Such a strong and steady woman was perfect in his mind. Her beauty and shape was soft and welcoming. He found it warm and comforting. Everything he really ever had wanted.
Up until that moment, Nordali had never considered finding himself a partner. He wanted to be a lone wolf, someone who wouldn’t be bound I something he once thought so silly. But looking at Amira made him think twice.
“It took me awhile to build this, in full honesty. I’m glad they trust me.” He sighed deeply. “They trust ‘Zar’ to lead them. And I’m doing the best I can to do so, but sometimes I wish I could just be myself,”
“They trust you, hallaski. If you were to be yourself around them, they should be completely alright with that.” Amira said softly, ducking her head slightly to try and get him to look at her.
“And besides. You will always have a place to be yourself around me.” She said, smiling sweetly at him. Her dark eyes were warm, that brown that was usually black lighter in the lamplight inside the tent, though still dark.
“They would kill me the second I came out as myself, Amira.” Murmured the half-breed, meeting her gaze with a soft sigh. “And I’m sure you wouldn’t like me much either. Besides, I like Zar much better than I liked my old self.” He chuckled lightly to try and lighten the mood.
Nordali stared into her gorgeous eyes, reaching out to gently cup her face with one hand, turning her head slightly so he could see that ring around her eye. “You have such a beautiful eye color.”
“Oh.” Her voice was soft as she frowned slightly, his joking not quite enough to get rid of the worry tangling in her gut. But when his hand found her cheek, all thoughts were forgotten, and she leaned into his touch, letting him move her head.
Her cheeks flamed at the compliment, and she bit her lip. “They’re hardly as pretty as yours. Just strange. I was told I was somewhat of an abomination for not getting the full eye colors, but instead only parts of them.”
He didn’t let her be down for long. His hands slid to push her hair away from her face, studying each pretty curve and line that made up her facial features. “I think they’re lovely. They make you unique.” He murmured gently. “Mine mark me as a traitor to those who understand.” He leaned a little closer, his breath hot against her skin.
“What kingdom did you come from? You have to be some sort of goddess. There’s no way you’re mortal with this beauty.” He flirted, his lips curving into a smile.
Prophets, she really stood no chance, did she? Between the compliments, his touch, and his flirting, she was likely red as a tomato and incredibly flustered. “A goddess? I really don’t-definitely not. I’m far from divine, Zar.” She said, one hand coming up to hold his wrist gently.
Nordali laughed at the red in her face, happy he was able to affect her in such a way. The male leaned forwards and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before he pulled away, gently taking his wrist back from her. "I happen to think you are. Now, how about I braid your hair? I want to be able to see more of your face."
She blinked in surprise when he kissed her forehead, and as he pulled away, she pulled the collar of the shirt up to hide her face. “Right. Uh, yeah. I-okay.” She stuttered our, turning and heading for the chair. As she did, the shirt shifted, her side bandages coming into view for just a split second thanks to the way she was hiding her face in the shirt.
Nor froze at the sight of the bandages. She didn’t need those to hide scars. She was hurt and hadn’t told him. “Amira. Are you sure you’re not hurt? You’re not lying to me are you?” He asked sternly as he ran his fingers through her long hair.
His long fingers worked rather quickly as he began to braid. “Your side is also covered in bandages. Tell me what happened and how I can help, please.”
"Of course I am not hurt." Amira said, leaning into his touch slightly as his fingers worked through her hair. "What would possibly make you think I am anything but fine? Nothing happened." Lie, lie, so many lies. Sort of. The pain had been a constant for long enough that she barely felt it now, so in a way, she was fine. The bad part was the possibility of infection, something she'd been pointedly ignoring.
“Everything you’ve been saying so far.” He murmured gently, combing through her hair as he pulled it back. Nordali was surprisingly gentle for his stature, humming softly as he finished up and tied a strip of ribbon into her hair to hold the style. “How does that feel?” He asked softly, kneeling down in front of her and gently reaching out to touch her side. “Let me help you. We have healers here.”
Her eyes drifted shut as he did her hair, shoulders slumping as she relaxed. And then he was kneeling, and she started at his touch to her bandages, reflexively shifting slightly away as her eyes opened. “I do not need healers. It-feels perfectly fine.” Amira was lying again. She didn’t have a tell, a product of being raised in an environment where even the smallest tell got you picked apart by the vulture. But there was no way the visibly blood stained bandages weren’t hiding something that was at least somewhat painful.
Nordali paused for a moment, his fingertips brushing against the fabric of her shirt. “Amira, I will not judge you for this. It would be much better if you would let me help you, Amira. I don’t want anyone in this guild hurt.”
Amira’s eyes flickered over his face before she settled back down, eyes everywhere but on his as she tied the shirt up higher. Making sure it would stay up, she motioned to the bandages, giving him permission to lift them.
The injury looked to be some sort of deep gash that hadn’t healed right, or at all. The surrounding skin was either caked with drying blood that continued to be replaced no matter how many times she’d tried to wipe it off, or was turning a greenish yellow with some type of early infection. No matter what she did, she couldn’t figure out how to get it to stop spreading.
Nordali truly had worried. And now that he saw the wound she had hidden he was near panicked. “Amira, this isn’t ‘nothing.’ What happened?” He asked, giving her a scolding, but caring, glance. His silver eyes looked darker than they were.
“What did this, my medics need to know, I need to know.”
