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    [Vida] The Scars They Don't See

    Cinnamon Tiefling

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    [Vida] The Scars They Don't See Empty [Vida] The Scars They Don't See

    Post by Codex on Tue May 19, 2015 10:49 pm

    [Vida] The Scars They Don't See 17695870319_b3ed9960f5_z
    Vida learned over the years - the hard way - that her spirit was sturdier than her physical body would ever be. The runt couldn't sustain damage the way her packmates could by any means, and instead had to rely on the protection of those she trusted... like her alpha. Spirit Walking ran the risk of far greater injuries, and she'd suffered these firsthand - but her soul could take the beating far better than her body could.

    There were no visible scars or markings on the Garou's body. Save for the hardened look in her eyes, she appeared as if she'd never seen a day of conflict. Her hands were relatively smooth, her calluses minimal. She looked far too soft to be one of her kind, especially in times when her paint had been washed off her body.

    Like now.

    Bathing was as tedious as anything to her: just another  menial task meant to take up her day. Sure, she preferred to feel clean, but she found nothing truly relaxing about it in the way that others might have.

    Waist-deep in water, she hummed something to herself that she hadn't in years. It was a haunting, dreary melody perhaps, yes, but it was one that brought her a strange feeling of peace - especially on those frequent nights when her mind was plagued by terrors, leaving her to awaken with a violent jolt or a disoriented scream.

    She slowed the movements of her hands as she washed any  remaining bits of dirt from her body. Her attention drifted to her reflection in the river, her head tilting curiously. She was well aware that she was an odd fit for the rest of her pack, perhaps. The warning from the dire bear's spirit had remained in her mind even in those more recent days: the clan must never know what she truly was... the difference between her and them. She was far too gentle and soft compared to them. Weak.

    Her vision slowly began to blur as she continued to stare. As it did, she watched an odd shift that she'd never noticed before: she saw less of her physical body and more of... what was that?

    Her reflection looked ghostly pale, the only recognizable thing about her being the gold of her eyes and the structure of her face. But the longer she looked, the more parts of her came forth. She saw glowing blue markings all over her, organized and yet chaotic at the same time. It startled her... until intuition and thought told her what they were.

    Scars. They were scars, and parts of her body were covered in them.

    Their bout with Kurnin had done the worst of them all: most of the markings were slightly more faded than the rest, the course of time dimming their light and allowing them to begin to slowly become less noticeable... but always there. Nineteen years later, she remembered the pain vividly.

    Brighter among them were the runes that no doubt had formed while she'd been in Skarvald: the trapped, reanimated wolf; the three souls locked inside their corpses and left at the mercy of a townsperson who nearly didn't grant their spirits freedom; the dire bear who'd begged for release and had later become her guide.

    Most recent of all was a pattern along her cheeks. She assumed that one formed when the necromancer so abruptly destroyed one of her spectral companions. She'd never cried tears for her loss, but her heart had broken just the same.

    Was that what her spirit looked like? Was that what her mother saw whenever she visited her at the Rise? It had to be. She remembered her Spirit Walking; the way the world became devoid of all color but the darkness and light of grays and blues, painting a physically vibrant landscape cold, yet welcoming. She'd seen people's souls, living and dead: blues, whites, grays... sometimes horrible darkness.

    As she sharpened her vision and began to dress herself upon stepping out of the river, her mind wandered and her wheels turned. There was a way to use this to her advantage; she just had to determine what that way was.

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