Throwing Sparks “How do you do this?”
Alistair blinked and looked up from his book to find Jess holding his bow. He chuckled as he noted she was holding the bow with her left hand when he knew she was right handed.
“Not like that,” he explained, getting up and padding across the broken, cracked, dirt covered stones.
They were still in the abandoned house. Keero wasn’t keen on their company moving at the moment. Too many eyes in the forest, too many open spots between here and Moszou, and this crumbling mansion was the safest place they could find. Crossing over to Jess Alistair took the bow from her and turned her aro
His Face "When was the last time you saw your face?"
Jess watched as Alistair stopped everything he was doing. The tip of his quill stilled at the parchment, his eyes grew wide, and he slowly lifted his head. Everything about his expression was laced with bewilderment.
"Th-this morning, when I w-washed ?" He stuttered.
"No, I mean, your face," Jess made an airy movement around her own.
Teal eyes stared into Jess's, and then moved to the parchment for a moment. Maybe he wrote something wrong. No, all the words were there, and they had nothing to do with this conversation. He looked back at her, even more confused now.
"U-uh, I-I d
Scars He won't let me touch them. Every time my hand or a finger strays towards his neck he freezes. There's a look to his teal eyes, a quick glazing of something sharp and clearit's shame. He hates those marks, hates that he did them to himself, and hates that I can see them.
I'm trying to find some way to let him know it's ok, I can understand, sort of. I've never been driven anywhere close to that kind of despair. But we're not the same person, and we've lived completely different lives, so is that so surprising? I tried to kiss the edge of one of them once. He didn't pull away, Alistair never pulls away, but I felt the way his s