[The hollow halls and sunken eyes of the soldier are both things Dion is eager to put a wall in front of. It reminds him too much of what he saw that night in Twinside, and the less time he spends dwelling on it, the better. He has dwelled on it every night for four seasons. Surely there will be plenty of time tonight.
Dion is less exuberant in his eagerness to undress in front of another, but he has little patience to go elsewhere. He wants the blood and stink of that creature off him as soon as possible, and he does... trust Kyle. He feels it is beyond earned now.
As he unbuttons the fastenings at his breast, he pauses, letting out a laugh of disbelief. He had nearly forgotten. How time has changed so many things, and yet has not.] You are right. The Nether pools. [Ages back. When he had been... unwell. Where every waking moment of his life was a reminder of how little he deserved to live.
He has his moments still. But they are moments, not hours. Not days. And back then, he had no trust for no one, hiding the pieces of himself, the etchings on his body, terrified of turning into a weapon for forces he could not trust.
After his hesitation, he lifts his clothes off, and this time it is not bandaged. His right arm, from his elbow up to his shoulder has turned to stone, as well as along his right hip and ribs, creeping across his lower stomach as if to reach his left side. A permanent wound that now grows larger; as he steps out of his breeches, he examines to see how it has grown after today. Not a horrible amount; it still has yet to directly solidify the joint of his elbow.] I had more secrets then. We have been through so much since our trip there.
[Eight hundred years, and then some. He joins Kyle in the water, and this time he does not attempt to hide his curse, nor his scars. New ones, even: one puckering skin in his right thigh, and now the wounds from the knives he received in his left side and the back of his shoulder. As he thought, with the limited healing he got that night the knives he took with Ramuh in Nocwich have left their mark.] I hope it does not... disturb you. I have been like this for some time.
[He means the stone. The healers were certainly put off by it, and he just as wary of their magics in return.]
no subject
Dion is less exuberant in his eagerness to undress in front of another, but he has little patience to go elsewhere. He wants the blood and stink of that creature off him as soon as possible, and he does... trust Kyle. He feels it is beyond earned now.
As he unbuttons the fastenings at his breast, he pauses, letting out a laugh of disbelief. He had nearly forgotten. How time has changed so many things, and yet has not.] You are right. The Nether pools. [Ages back. When he had been... unwell. Where every waking moment of his life was a reminder of how little he deserved to live.
He has his moments still. But they are moments, not hours. Not days. And back then, he had no trust for no one, hiding the pieces of himself, the etchings on his body, terrified of turning into a weapon for forces he could not trust.
After his hesitation, he lifts his clothes off, and this time it is not bandaged. His right arm, from his elbow up to his shoulder has turned to stone, as well as along his right hip and ribs, creeping across his lower stomach as if to reach his left side. A permanent wound that now grows larger; as he steps out of his breeches, he examines to see how it has grown after today. Not a horrible amount; it still has yet to directly solidify the joint of his elbow.] I had more secrets then. We have been through so much since our trip there.
[Eight hundred years, and then some. He joins Kyle in the water, and this time he does not attempt to hide his curse, nor his scars. New ones, even: one puckering skin in his right thigh, and now the wounds from the knives he received in his left side and the back of his shoulder. As he thought, with the limited healing he got that night the knives he took with Ramuh in Nocwich have left their mark.] I hope it does not... disturb you. I have been like this for some time.
[He means the stone. The healers were certainly put off by it, and he just as wary of their magics in return.]