The Pale Elf

The Scar: A Language of the Hells

As my consciousness returns to me, I immediately feel the pain. The soreness of my thighs and my neck. I reach up subconsciously and rub at my skin as my eyes flitter open. The brightness of the sun, the shades of green and yellow, the browns of the bark on the trees all come into clear view. I look around, once to the left, and then pain as I look to the right. I rub my hand against my neck and feel the two punctures, closed over with thin scabs. I hold my hand up in front of me, a silhouette against the sky, clear of blood. I sit up, still naked, in a mostly empty clearing. Astarion is standing a few feet away, staring up into the cloudless sky, the sun glowing off of his bare skin. I can see his scars even better now that we aren't in that dim cave. 

My chest hurts at the sight of his back. The puffy lines, so many of them as they duplicate again and again until they form a complete circle on his back. Before I can take an in depth look at what it might say, Astarion's voice drifts in the wind, cool and relaxed "You sleep light. I thought you'd be exhausted after last night." He doesn't look at me as his eyes fixate on the rich blueness above us. I take a moment to admire how glorious he looks, slender and built like a big cat ready to swipe the little mouse right out of its hole and devour it whole. It sends a chill down my spine at how still he is. Yet, I admire him for his strength, his ability for ruthlessness when needed. 

Silently I watch him as I lay naked on a particular fluffy patch of fresh green grass, the sun warm on my own skin, a slight breeze carries through the forest. As if feeling my eyes, he turns to look at me over his shoulder. At first his eyes are hard, distant, but they seem to soften when he catches my perturbed face. His eyelids lower, and a small grin pulls at his face. "Are you alright?" He asks, and I can't tell if he really wants to know or is just being chivalrous. I nod curtly, either way. 

His perfectly bright red eyes dart down to my thighs for a moment, and then back up to my face. I look down at the deep blues and purples that line the outer parts of my thighs in the perfect shape of his fingerprints. "I was holding back..." he says gently and then looks back towards the sun. "I didn't want to lose control." A muscle in his jaw tenses, almost hidden by his luscious silver hair that curls into the back of his neck. After a moment, his chin dips over his shoulder. I open my mouth, "Don't get me wrong," he interrupts and quickly turns towards me. If I thought he was glorious from behind, he is unimaginably magnificent from the front. His tight pants show the perfect outline of what I felt inside me the night before. "You were..." he breathes in and lets out the word with a breath "exquisite." His eyes are closed, as if remembering the taste. They darken when he opens them. "I didn't want to go too far."  

I start to stand, my legs and butt getting sore from sitting on the ground and he reaches out a hand to me. I take it, and he pulls me up effortlessly, keeping his hands steady on my arms until he is sure that I have my balance. I watch him curiously, "You must be enjoying the sun." I say, nodding my chin up at the blazing ember above us. He smirks, stepping away from me so that his pale skin of his face reflects the sun once more. 

"I should be cinders in this light. I hadn't seen the sun for almost two-hundred years before we crashed." He says, lost in thought. I reach for him, but then my fingers freeze in the space between us as I think better of it and look at his scars as he is half faced away from me.  His chest rises and falls very slowly as he continues "The sun, wading into a river, walking into a home without an invitation. They're all perfectly mundane activities now." His voice is so soft, it is almost impossible to be sure what he said. Still lost in thought it seems. 

"Why do you think that is?" I ask, curious myself, but pretty sure I already know the answer. 

His hair tilts with his head at me with a different kind of smile. "Someone, or something planted these little pests inside out heads. Whatever they have done, it has given me the freedom I have desired for so many years." Despite his cold skin, I can feel a warmth from inside him as he searches mine. He looks up once more, "the possibilities."