[private] The Wounds of My Past || {Wound}

[wound]

S he doesn’t feel beautiful. In fact, there have only been fleeting moments when Wound has felt the courage to consider herself worthy of such a title. Those moments were mostly found under the warm gaze of Warrick’s brown eyes or standing alone on the edge of the sea. They never came to her under the expression of a stranger, let alone a stranger who witnessed and whispered her through her very own undoing. Yet she can see it (there in the hint of his eyes, behind the familiarity of the shadows and the cool of the trees). She can see her face and her petite, deformed body swimming in his vision and her cheeks begin to warm with mingled embarrassment and shyness. “I’m Wound,” she tries. Maybe diverting the attention away from their staring — staring in which she feels herself also acknowledging the handsomeness of his features — will help her recollect both herself and her thoughts. “I never caught your name.” Night is beginning to swirl down around them, the stars peeking through the thickness of the leaves above their heads. She wants to know his name (this handsome, similarly-crafted stallion in the woods) but Wound is suddenly aware of the night and her Tephra behind her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I really should be going.” It’s not a good idea to stick around in the cobwebs for too long, not when she is unprotected. And while she is secure within the realm of this large stranger, once she passes his eyesight she will be an individual again. “Thank you, again.” Her voice is sweet and sincere, a warm light appearing out of the chilling darkness. “If you ever need anything, I’m in Tephra.” And with that, she turns and disappears into the shadows as easily as she had come.

credit to nat of adoxography.

@[Hephaestus] / i figured this would be a good place to end this... feel free to reply if you want so we can say she knows his name haha. or we can just assume he replied with it.