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"Hm. Good parents."

He wipes away the rest of the blood and leftover ink, inspecting his work. He's precise; it's damn near perfect to what he had drawn.

"Go look."

"Oh but that was only until-" But then she's in front of the mirror and speechless.

"It's beautiful."

He tries to wipe the ink from his fingers but it's already stained. At least for a few days. He stands, walking to the mirror with her and inspecting his work. "I haven't done anything like that in a very long time," he tells her.

"I love it." So much she doesn't know how to put it into words. "How're you so good at making me feel like I belong somewhere?"

"Because I know what it is to be alone," he reminds her. "And I do not want that for anyone else. Not for you."

She rests her head on his shoulder for a moment. "Well I'm sure your packmate now. This just proves it. Now, what do I do to make sure it stays pretty forever?"

He laughs at that. "Honestly? Just don't scar it. Keep lotion on it." He shrugs. "How do werewolves heal from wounds?"

"We heal pretty fast. But we do scar," she has plenty of those. "Most of mine are from when I was human."

The slightly keloided scars on her hands and feet are from being a wolf and running several hundred miles in a blind terror, as well as a mark on her shoulder from being trapped in a cage with starving dogs.

"You should be fine," he assures her. He doesn't know much about it, considering his own experience. "Do you know how this was done?" he asks, touching his collarbone.

She studies it a moment and shakes her head. "How?"

"Cutting the skin in the shape and rubbing soot in the wound. Letting it heal over," he explains.

"Now I feel kind of bad for thinking the tattoos are so sexy," she admits. She isn't the least bit romantically attracted to him but, well. The tattoos transcend that.

"Does the fact that I endured strife for them make them somehow less?" he wonders. "I would think that woudl make it better."

"Better. It is better," she agrees. "I just...don't like thinking about you hurting, like, as a rule." She touches the tattoo, feeling where it's raised. "But that is wicked cool."

"It was an honor," he reminds her with a smile. "The pain and the sacrifice."

"Exactly," she whispers. It's why she wanted this the way he did it: personal, painful, bloody. Perfect. "When did you get this one done? How old were you?"

"Young. I was about eighteen...nineteen...when I was changed," he says softly. "So before then."

"You were even younger than me when you were turned," she idly touches his jaw, wondering if he ever wonders what he'd look like if he'd aged.

"Are you nervous to be a wolf someday?"

"No," he assures her, leaning into her touch and kissing her palm. "Not at all. Should I be?"

She smiles, thumb stroking his cheek. "No. You should be excited. You'll feel the sun in whole new ways, you've never lived until you've fallen asleep in your own warm fur..."

"Hm, you make it sound like a vacation," he laughs to himself, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"A permanent vacation from nonsense," she agrees happily. "Now c'mon, want a quickie before dinner?"

She's teasing. Probably.

He sighs. "So romantic," he laughs, playfully pushing her away. "Go. I need to talk to Archer."

"Have you guys not made up yet?" That's alarming. "I'm going. You make up. Tell me about it when I come home."

Godric laughs again, not really worried about it. "Annie, it's alright. I'm planning on it now. I've only come back. I plan on making up with him right now."

But he does give her a kiss on the cheek before starting for the door.

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allgotrabies - 2021-10-09 03:48 (UTC) - Expand