you magnificent fuck up (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
apostatised) wrote2009-04-18 02:06 am
apostatised) wrote2009-04-18 02:06 am
[prompt] when his memory is persistent, one belated curiosity stops him before the mirror.
Seven months ago, Martel's shirt hung open on him in front of the mirror in the bathroom he shares with his wife. His face might be too young for his memories, but there is the scar, like death measured in inches as a permanent reminder of what he did. Not every injury that left a mark managed to keep it past resurrection, but enough. Candice always minds the persistent ache in his shoulder, from a boyhood fall.
She's considerate that way, and in the way she's never made more than he has of the wound left in his chest by Sparhawk's sword. He's (aggressively, you might say) not made a secret of what he did and what it led to; by now there's no reason to count the number of people who've seen it. In Arum it becomes part of the Valdis mythos, one more thing to let them explain amongst themselves. (He picks and chooses the rumours to encourage or discourage as is appropriate; occasionally he even gives information.)
Not even Martel is going to deny the fact he has a tendency for melodrama, but nobody ever said he was incapable of subtlety, patience or even simple quiet. When he hated his unchanging reflection enough to nearly break his fist in it (Candice gave him whiskey and stitches; he gave her bitterness and cruelty and finally his tears), it went no further than that. There was no grand gesture, just a few moments of weakness when they bled together.
Seven months later, though, there are thin pale marks where the stitches were in his knuckles and he still hasn't replaced the mirror in their bathroom.
She's considerate that way, and in the way she's never made more than he has of the wound left in his chest by Sparhawk's sword. He's (aggressively, you might say) not made a secret of what he did and what it led to; by now there's no reason to count the number of people who've seen it. In Arum it becomes part of the Valdis mythos, one more thing to let them explain amongst themselves. (He picks and chooses the rumours to encourage or discourage as is appropriate; occasionally he even gives information.)
Not even Martel is going to deny the fact he has a tendency for melodrama, but nobody ever said he was incapable of subtlety, patience or even simple quiet. When he hated his unchanging reflection enough to nearly break his fist in it (Candice gave him whiskey and stitches; he gave her bitterness and cruelty and finally his tears), it went no further than that. There was no grand gesture, just a few moments of weakness when they bled together.
Seven months later, though, there are thin pale marks where the stitches were in his knuckles and he still hasn't replaced the mirror in their bathroom.
friday ↔ scarring