Hand so guided, Loxley seeks out the scar tissue he expects, and he trails a light touch across it, following its path. Had either of them been less fortunate, then they'd have died in an exceptionally painful and ugly manner. He has a similar deep scratch up the inside of his thigh, which could have been differently unfortunate, give or take a few inches.
He smiles at her directing him, a hint of fang-like canine in the low candlelight, and he does as directed. He lifts her tunic like a curtain, but is slow to withdraw, a brush of a kiss hovered between them before he eases back enough to help untangle her from the garment.
Indulges in lying back all the way, the backs of his knuckles brushing up along her abdomen, raising fine hairs there. "Mine's a souvenir," he says, of scars. "To remember the fallen city of Nevarra by."
An impersonal wound, by and large, caught in the chaos from a mere one of thousands. He doesn't ask after hers, save to leave a space in the moment if she wishes to fill it with something similar. Even then, his focus has roamed further than scarring.
no subject
He smiles at her directing him, a hint of fang-like canine in the low candlelight, and he does as directed. He lifts her tunic like a curtain, but is slow to withdraw, a brush of a kiss hovered between them before he eases back enough to help untangle her from the garment.
Indulges in lying back all the way, the backs of his knuckles brushing up along her abdomen, raising fine hairs there. "Mine's a souvenir," he says, of scars. "To remember the fallen city of Nevarra by."
An impersonal wound, by and large, caught in the chaos from a mere one of thousands. He doesn't ask after hers, save to leave a space in the moment if she wishes to fill it with something similar. Even then, his focus has roamed further than scarring.