Oh that was awesome Kuro! Well played there, the both of you!Igraine Member
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Oh that was awesome Kuro! Well played there, the both of you!Wow Dot! o.o... I'l admit, I love weddings, but three back to back sounds just... Exhausting >.> Well you just enjoy the celebrations as you can, and we'll see you emerge once more! 
That was just lovely Justric 
Such different men - it must be so fun to write for them, slipping into the heads of each!
Such different men - it must be so fun to write for them, slipping into the heads of each!You take good care of yourself Justric, hope the ick passes imminently hon *hugs*
And that was a great post Kuro - Connor's definitely kinda awesome ;)
And that was a great post Kuro - Connor's definitely kinda awesome ;)
Oh WOW! I cannot wait to see this design that you tease us with, but cannot POSSIBLY be so cruel not to share, Kuro!
And sure thing Idle, I should be around this weekend. Saturday morning not-so-much, just doing a 5k with my girl child. But most all other times, that should work just fine!
And sure thing Idle, I should be around this weekend. Saturday morning not-so-much, just doing a 5k with my girl child. But most all other times, that should work just fine!
The question that first came from Connor-who-was-apparently-not-Mitt (she'd really have to work out the logistics of that strange nickname - or maybe have her hearing checked, one of the two) was pretty much the last one she might have expected. Why would she compile those equations? Well... Honestly, she'd never really thought much on the whole deep philosophical 'why,' and so she chose to run with the more mundane answers as Connor's large, calloused fingers wrapped easily about her whole hand.
"Thank you for saying so, Connor. Really. My father's a physicist, scheduled to wake for the Tenth Shift, and I am... Well, was I mean, an engineering student before The Change. But Dad made sure all his kids knew, from the time we could count our wee little fingers and toes, that numbers weren't just so much chicken scratch. Seen the right way, numbers can describe the entire framework of the universe."
Pauline grinned at the memory as the grey-eyed man, Owen Reece, Leader of Knuckleheads, set his scratched and bloodied hand in her tender care. Using a few of the alcohol prep pads, she carefully held that expressive, long-fingered hand in her own as she cleaned away the worst of the blood, savoring the warmth and strength she could feel.
"He calls them the biggest box of pastel paints God ever gave us." She glanced up to Owen's face as she set aside an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, an even wider smile surprised from her lips when she caught his glance from behind the veil of an ornery tendril of hair. For a split second Pauline fought the urge to tuck that rebel hair back behind his ear, all the better to see the laughter she was sure sparkled in those eyes, and instead finished bandaging the disinfected scratches Handsome laid open.
Owen had questions, a great many questions - a fact for which Pauline was eternally grateful. All his questions, quickly asked and then left half-forgotten as his quick mind leapt from thought to thought, meant for the moment at least she could pick and choose her answers. And for now Pauline left the mystery of her nonexistent file and the nonexistent job she performed unsolved, by the simple blessing of Owen's curiosity about the equations Connor was still studying on her tablet. All she had to do was hold her tongue - well, hold her breath really as Owen looked over her work with Connor - and the question of what job she held during the Second Shift passed by swiftly enough for the moment.
It was not that Pauline believed she could truly get away with hiding how it was she came to wake during Second Shift - well, not for any great length of time anyway. But it was simply so tempting, so lovely to bask for even a few brief moments in the simple joy of being seen by these two men for the good work she accomplished, and not what had been done to her.
She never imagined though, never dared so much as hope for the chance she'd be offered a place here in Hangar Six so swiftly. Pauline was caught between the sudden urge to burst into huge tears of happiness, or just jump up and down shouting for joy like a complete fool - or maybe do a victory lap or two around the hangar.
In the end, she finally chose none-of-the-above, simply clapping her fingers lightly over her lips in stunned, happy surprise, her gaze turned toward Connor hopefully. He would have the final say it seemed, and she'd simply have to be patient - even if it wasn't her strongpoint. The mechanic had been assigned the duty of cat collection for now, but Pauline really did not believe it would be necessary for Connor to break out welding gloves and a mask.
She knelt by the chair, offering her hand to Handsome as she whispered softly to that beautiful cat, to see if she could coax him out herself. "Yes, I knew Steve - not closely I mean, but well enough I suppose. No, I didn't work with him." Pauline took a deep breath as she settled herself to the newly cleaned floors. She crossed her legs easily, offering a warm lap and those soft, pale hands for the wayward cat though she turned to look up to Reece, her gaze steady. 'Go on Pauline - tell him the truth. Owen's going to find out eventually anyway - and you really don't want to look cagey or shady, and jeopardize the chances for your first real job by telling half-truths... '
"And no, you wouldn't have a file on me Owen, because there isn't one in Hangar Six."
Pauline quickly looked to Handsome again, pursing her pretty lips as she tried to call him closer. "Steve wasn't a bad man, the mechanic before you Connor. But he was a very sad man. I don't believe it was the job, so much as... Well, so much as despair. Over everything. I did offer these past couple months, to come help him out, to tighten up the training programs - even just clean his office if he would let me."
"But he wouldn't - as I'm sure you saw when you first walked inside. For Steve, I think it finally just became easier to be mad than to be sad. A couple weeks ago, he finally just lost it and told me to 'get the hell out of here' - pardon my language - and that he'd call security if I came back while he was still awake. The MPs are really nice, and it would be so embarrassing to get arrested for trying to find a productive job."
Pauline shrugged her shoulders lightly as her gaze turned up to Connor and Owen once more, smiling so sweetly. "So I just waited a few more weeks until all of you woke for Third Shift. I hustled myself down here, looking to be a little useful and at least try to wow you all with my mad, time and space-bending cleaning skills." She winked playfully up at the men for a moment, before the expression on her lightly freckled face became serious once more.
"But in all honesty, I think Steve is far happier for now, in the oblivion of cryosleep. Maybe when we arrive at Canaan, he'll find a little hope again."
"Thank you for saying so, Connor. Really. My father's a physicist, scheduled to wake for the Tenth Shift, and I am... Well, was I mean, an engineering student before The Change. But Dad made sure all his kids knew, from the time we could count our wee little fingers and toes, that numbers weren't just so much chicken scratch. Seen the right way, numbers can describe the entire framework of the universe."
Pauline grinned at the memory as the grey-eyed man, Owen Reece, Leader of Knuckleheads, set his scratched and bloodied hand in her tender care. Using a few of the alcohol prep pads, she carefully held that expressive, long-fingered hand in her own as she cleaned away the worst of the blood, savoring the warmth and strength she could feel.
"He calls them the biggest box of pastel paints God ever gave us." She glanced up to Owen's face as she set aside an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, an even wider smile surprised from her lips when she caught his glance from behind the veil of an ornery tendril of hair. For a split second Pauline fought the urge to tuck that rebel hair back behind his ear, all the better to see the laughter she was sure sparkled in those eyes, and instead finished bandaging the disinfected scratches Handsome laid open.
Owen had questions, a great many questions - a fact for which Pauline was eternally grateful. All his questions, quickly asked and then left half-forgotten as his quick mind leapt from thought to thought, meant for the moment at least she could pick and choose her answers. And for now Pauline left the mystery of her nonexistent file and the nonexistent job she performed unsolved, by the simple blessing of Owen's curiosity about the equations Connor was still studying on her tablet. All she had to do was hold her tongue - well, hold her breath really as Owen looked over her work with Connor - and the question of what job she held during the Second Shift passed by swiftly enough for the moment.
It was not that Pauline believed she could truly get away with hiding how it was she came to wake during Second Shift - well, not for any great length of time anyway. But it was simply so tempting, so lovely to bask for even a few brief moments in the simple joy of being seen by these two men for the good work she accomplished, and not what had been done to her.
She never imagined though, never dared so much as hope for the chance she'd be offered a place here in Hangar Six so swiftly. Pauline was caught between the sudden urge to burst into huge tears of happiness, or just jump up and down shouting for joy like a complete fool - or maybe do a victory lap or two around the hangar.
In the end, she finally chose none-of-the-above, simply clapping her fingers lightly over her lips in stunned, happy surprise, her gaze turned toward Connor hopefully. He would have the final say it seemed, and she'd simply have to be patient - even if it wasn't her strongpoint. The mechanic had been assigned the duty of cat collection for now, but Pauline really did not believe it would be necessary for Connor to break out welding gloves and a mask.
She knelt by the chair, offering her hand to Handsome as she whispered softly to that beautiful cat, to see if she could coax him out herself. "Yes, I knew Steve - not closely I mean, but well enough I suppose. No, I didn't work with him." Pauline took a deep breath as she settled herself to the newly cleaned floors. She crossed her legs easily, offering a warm lap and those soft, pale hands for the wayward cat though she turned to look up to Reece, her gaze steady. 'Go on Pauline - tell him the truth. Owen's going to find out eventually anyway - and you really don't want to look cagey or shady, and jeopardize the chances for your first real job by telling half-truths... '
"And no, you wouldn't have a file on me Owen, because there isn't one in Hangar Six."
Pauline quickly looked to Handsome again, pursing her pretty lips as she tried to call him closer. "Steve wasn't a bad man, the mechanic before you Connor. But he was a very sad man. I don't believe it was the job, so much as... Well, so much as despair. Over everything. I did offer these past couple months, to come help him out, to tighten up the training programs - even just clean his office if he would let me."
"But he wouldn't - as I'm sure you saw when you first walked inside. For Steve, I think it finally just became easier to be mad than to be sad. A couple weeks ago, he finally just lost it and told me to 'get the hell out of here' - pardon my language - and that he'd call security if I came back while he was still awake. The MPs are really nice, and it would be so embarrassing to get arrested for trying to find a productive job."
Pauline shrugged her shoulders lightly as her gaze turned up to Connor and Owen once more, smiling so sweetly. "So I just waited a few more weeks until all of you woke for Third Shift. I hustled myself down here, looking to be a little useful and at least try to wow you all with my mad, time and space-bending cleaning skills." She winked playfully up at the men for a moment, before the expression on her lightly freckled face became serious once more.
"But in all honesty, I think Steve is far happier for now, in the oblivion of cryosleep. Maybe when we arrive at Canaan, he'll find a little hope again."
Galina nodded, pulling up short beside Souma, dark eyes roving the grounds about them, taking in the perfectly miniature forest, the man before her, thoughtfully calculating all. It was not lost on her in the least where their promenade had finally ended, together amongst the perfectly manicured tree, far from prying eyes or too-keen ears.
"Of course," she said softly, nodding her assent once more, her gaze steady and unwavering as she met Souma's own. "My message then. Please know, this is my message for you alone, Takahiro Souma. Mine - not from my father, nor the Demidov family."
Galina knew very well that Souma would not care for her message - not in the least. But the one her father wished to send? That was a message far too brutal, much too cruel. Even now, near a year since those dark first days of her confession, she could still hear the glacial ice moving through her father's voice as he commanded her to exact the only vengeance that would right the grievous insult to his highborn honor and noble family, the affront by some up-jumped foreign peasant: Souma's family was to be put to the sword, all of them butchered like animals before his eyes. And when all was done, even those eyes were to be gouged from his head, his last sight the bleeding, broken corpses of those he loved best in this world.
Galina would not. Could not. Not from the moment she laid eyes upon the patriarch Raigo's kind face, so patient and good to a foreign teacher who took the time to learn his culture as well. Not from the moment she first laughed - truly laughed - with Takahiro Ai, delighting in the woman's subtle wit. Galina defied her father's wishes from the sanctity of the Takahiro compound - and yet refusing him as she did, even with the safety of several hundred miles between them? This was no easy feat. It was only by her brother Yury's subtle machinations that Baron Vasily Demidov finally relented, conceding at last that his daughter's subtler plan had far more lucrative merit, spiced with a dash of ironic Russian "justice" that made this lesser scheme a touch more palatable.
And even if Souma never knew, never understood what she had done in his stead or the war she fought against her own in his home, Galina could still rest her head at night, and sleep deeply and well. Oh yes, the young woman had certainly been molded and shaped and trained become many things in her short lifetime, and none of them terribly good: spy, warrior, assassin, thief, liar - but the one thing Galina had never been?
A monster.
"I imagine after the events aboard the Empress, you never thought to see me again - well, if you bothered to think of me at all, of course." Galina smiled softly, chuckling just under her breath without the least hint of mirth.
"I, unfortunately, did not have that luxury when the ship finally docked. I had to carry the humiliation home with me, and lay my shame - to the very last - before my father."
"What followed those disgraceful confessions of mine, was a bloodbath. Every last contact, every last fool who took your bribes or duplicitous agent who looked the other way to ensure Baronessa Galina Demidova boarded the Empress of Japan? All were torn up by the roots. The network you laid to find me, to falsely commission my services and arrange out little meet, has been obliterated."
"And all I have done during my time here, was return the favor. Even now, my brother Yury is arranging our imminent departure, with many regrets to your father and sister. But my eldest brother has fallen tragically ill you see, and we are expected home right away. But the network I have laid in your family's business, in your finances and the American-earned monies that have mollified my father? I will not spoil the fun ahead of you, ferreting out every last tendril I have planted, in each and every Takahiro enterprise, legitimate and... Less than so."
"To be rid of me entirely Souma, to finally uproot every last vestige of my influence in your home and hearth? You shall have to confess to your father, and likely even to Ai, the truth who I am and what you did aboard that ship. Sake with me was far more of a 'personal' conquest than recovering Mr. Selvin, now wasn't it Souma? Nothing in the least sanctioned by or for the Takahiro clan, after you failed to recover the schematics from the Winchester Mansion." Galina arched an eyebrow meaningfully, one corner of her lips curving upward slowly.
"To rid yourself of every last toehold I've made in nigh on a year now, you must also explain how it came to be that a Russian spy could come into the Takahiro home as a guest, using her own Christian name, as brazen and bold as summer sunlight."
"Of course," she said softly, nodding her assent once more, her gaze steady and unwavering as she met Souma's own. "My message then. Please know, this is my message for you alone, Takahiro Souma. Mine - not from my father, nor the Demidov family."
Galina knew very well that Souma would not care for her message - not in the least. But the one her father wished to send? That was a message far too brutal, much too cruel. Even now, near a year since those dark first days of her confession, she could still hear the glacial ice moving through her father's voice as he commanded her to exact the only vengeance that would right the grievous insult to his highborn honor and noble family, the affront by some up-jumped foreign peasant: Souma's family was to be put to the sword, all of them butchered like animals before his eyes. And when all was done, even those eyes were to be gouged from his head, his last sight the bleeding, broken corpses of those he loved best in this world.
Galina would not. Could not. Not from the moment she laid eyes upon the patriarch Raigo's kind face, so patient and good to a foreign teacher who took the time to learn his culture as well. Not from the moment she first laughed - truly laughed - with Takahiro Ai, delighting in the woman's subtle wit. Galina defied her father's wishes from the sanctity of the Takahiro compound - and yet refusing him as she did, even with the safety of several hundred miles between them? This was no easy feat. It was only by her brother Yury's subtle machinations that Baron Vasily Demidov finally relented, conceding at last that his daughter's subtler plan had far more lucrative merit, spiced with a dash of ironic Russian "justice" that made this lesser scheme a touch more palatable.
And even if Souma never knew, never understood what she had done in his stead or the war she fought against her own in his home, Galina could still rest her head at night, and sleep deeply and well. Oh yes, the young woman had certainly been molded and shaped and trained become many things in her short lifetime, and none of them terribly good: spy, warrior, assassin, thief, liar - but the one thing Galina had never been?
A monster.
"I imagine after the events aboard the Empress, you never thought to see me again - well, if you bothered to think of me at all, of course." Galina smiled softly, chuckling just under her breath without the least hint of mirth.
"I, unfortunately, did not have that luxury when the ship finally docked. I had to carry the humiliation home with me, and lay my shame - to the very last - before my father."
"What followed those disgraceful confessions of mine, was a bloodbath. Every last contact, every last fool who took your bribes or duplicitous agent who looked the other way to ensure Baronessa Galina Demidova boarded the Empress of Japan? All were torn up by the roots. The network you laid to find me, to falsely commission my services and arrange out little meet, has been obliterated."
"And all I have done during my time here, was return the favor. Even now, my brother Yury is arranging our imminent departure, with many regrets to your father and sister. But my eldest brother has fallen tragically ill you see, and we are expected home right away. But the network I have laid in your family's business, in your finances and the American-earned monies that have mollified my father? I will not spoil the fun ahead of you, ferreting out every last tendril I have planted, in each and every Takahiro enterprise, legitimate and... Less than so."
"To be rid of me entirely Souma, to finally uproot every last vestige of my influence in your home and hearth? You shall have to confess to your father, and likely even to Ai, the truth who I am and what you did aboard that ship. Sake with me was far more of a 'personal' conquest than recovering Mr. Selvin, now wasn't it Souma? Nothing in the least sanctioned by or for the Takahiro clan, after you failed to recover the schematics from the Winchester Mansion." Galina arched an eyebrow meaningfully, one corner of her lips curving upward slowly.
"To rid yourself of every last toehold I've made in nigh on a year now, you must also explain how it came to be that a Russian spy could come into the Takahiro home as a guest, using her own Christian name, as brazen and bold as summer sunlight."
Thank you all so, and *hugs Dot on her kitchen floor too, though might be wondering if we could move to a more carpeted spot for comfort?* 
I just wanted to say I'm so sorry, but I am straight up out of steam tonight. I had a lot to get done this evening and I couldn't get to my Pauline post like I wanted to. I'll be gone to clinicals all day tomorrow, but should be home later in the afternoon - and a Pauline post will be at the top of the list for tomorrow evening.
I just wanted to say I'm so sorry, but I am straight up out of steam tonight. I had a lot to get done this evening and I couldn't get to my Pauline post like I wanted to. I'll be gone to clinicals all day tomorrow, but should be home later in the afternoon - and a Pauline post will be at the top of the list for tomorrow evening.
Hey there Derren - I'm so sorry, but I just ran out of steam tonight, and I still have to get up early tomorrow to head to the "practicum" all day. I won't be home til around 1630 or so, but this and a Kings post will be my very first priority when I get here!
Antonia had watched Nicolette's doings with a nauseating mixture of horror and ambivalence and unease, finding herself unceremoniously shoved aside so the First Mate could straddle Thomas there on his bed. She pounded his chest, pressed her lips over his and heaved her breath into him. And all the while, just beneath her curses and shouts, that unbearably lovely voice declared a deep and abiding tenderness that stung Antonia to the heart, whether she would or not. It was Luc's slender arms about her shoulders that held the rogue still as she leaned against the bed, relegated as she to mere witness of these bizarre goings on while the Skate rocked beneath them all in the arms of a living storm.
The rogue had all but crushed the stem of her Amazon lily in clenched, shaking fingers, dropping it entirely as she sprang to her knees from Luc's embrace as Thomas sat up swiftly in his bed, breathing, grinning...
... Speaking...
"Quel idiot," Antonia growled with a choked sob of a laugh as she set herself up over the edge of the bed, gently but swiftly wrapping her arms about Thomas' shoulders and pulling him close, right where he sat. Her kiss was swift but passionate, filled equal parts with tears of relief and joy-filled laughter. And as she pulled back to look into that living copper gaze, Antonia pressed the palm of one hand to Thomas' forehead, pushing away playfully as she rolled her own eyes. "'Most erotic?' Est-ce vrai? Hmph! You'd best claim you've been struck with amnesia, and that last night has completely escaped your recall... "
With a laugh the rogue whirled to the First Mate where she still straddled Thomas, laying her hands over Nicolette's wet shoulders, peering earnestly into that matchless golden face. "Merci, Mademoiselle Beauchamp. You are as brilliant," she said softly, sincerely, bending to lovingly kiss Nicolette's incomparable silken cheek.
"As you are resourceful." The rogue moved to gently press her lips to Nicolette's marred cheek, as tenderly and earnestly as its mate.
"You are a blessing to us all." She kissed the First Mate's still-damp forehead lovingly before her full lips dipped to the curve of Nicolette's ear. Her warm whisper was for the golden, angelic woman alone, and full to the brim with the rogue's Cajun spice.
"But I do so wish, mon ami, that you would refrain from wrapping yourself about my one and only love at every given chance. Now, the first time? A misunderstanding, mais bien sûr. Twice? Ah, I suppose it was... The necessities of your surgeon medicine? So be it! But if there should be a third... ?" The rogue pulled back from Nicolette to gaze serenely into that angelic face, her hands still laid lightly over the woman's shoulders. Antonia's grey eyes widened with unspoken mirth above her lovely, feral smile, dark brows arched meaningfully as the edge of one thumbnail slid lightly over the First Mate's graceful throat.
"So!" Antonia tapped Nicolette impishly on the tip of her nose with one finger, laughing softly as she stood to her full height. She wrapped the fingers of one hand steadily about the First Mate's forearm, and helped her from Thomas' lap and bed as kindly as Nicolette herself had been to the rogue only moments before - and just as insistent. "All is well! Let's be up then, shall we? Come now, up you go! Up up!"
She turned to the helmsman, transfixed it seemed by the sight of the golden angel Nicolette in all her dripping glory. "Jax? Yes you, standing there drenched and incredulous - come in, come sit if you like. It would not surprise me if this storm was having its way up above, is it not?"
The rogue settled back on the edge of Thomas' bed as Luc leaned his head against her knee. Antonia lay her hand over those drenched, ebony curls, her fingers running lovingly through his hair. She could feel the exhaustion in the boy, radiating like shimmering heat from his slender form. With a soft sigh, she turned to look to Thomas, her grey eyes taking in the whole of his body, traveling to his chest and abdomen - and widening in surprise when she saw what was left of the siren's bite. But for some swelling and redness, the whole of that mortal, poison-riddled wound was... It was healed. Antonia bit her lip happily as she looked up to Thomas' face, incredulous fingertips oh-so-gently tracing the outline, wondering if this would be yet another scar to one day colorfully commemorate with a tattoo artist's inks.
The rogue had all but crushed the stem of her Amazon lily in clenched, shaking fingers, dropping it entirely as she sprang to her knees from Luc's embrace as Thomas sat up swiftly in his bed, breathing, grinning...
... Speaking...
"Quel idiot," Antonia growled with a choked sob of a laugh as she set herself up over the edge of the bed, gently but swiftly wrapping her arms about Thomas' shoulders and pulling him close, right where he sat. Her kiss was swift but passionate, filled equal parts with tears of relief and joy-filled laughter. And as she pulled back to look into that living copper gaze, Antonia pressed the palm of one hand to Thomas' forehead, pushing away playfully as she rolled her own eyes. "'Most erotic?' Est-ce vrai? Hmph! You'd best claim you've been struck with amnesia, and that last night has completely escaped your recall... "
With a laugh the rogue whirled to the First Mate where she still straddled Thomas, laying her hands over Nicolette's wet shoulders, peering earnestly into that matchless golden face. "Merci, Mademoiselle Beauchamp. You are as brilliant," she said softly, sincerely, bending to lovingly kiss Nicolette's incomparable silken cheek.
"As you are resourceful." The rogue moved to gently press her lips to Nicolette's marred cheek, as tenderly and earnestly as its mate.
"You are a blessing to us all." She kissed the First Mate's still-damp forehead lovingly before her full lips dipped to the curve of Nicolette's ear. Her warm whisper was for the golden, angelic woman alone, and full to the brim with the rogue's Cajun spice.
"But I do so wish, mon ami, that you would refrain from wrapping yourself about my one and only love at every given chance. Now, the first time? A misunderstanding, mais bien sûr. Twice? Ah, I suppose it was... The necessities of your surgeon medicine? So be it! But if there should be a third... ?" The rogue pulled back from Nicolette to gaze serenely into that angelic face, her hands still laid lightly over the woman's shoulders. Antonia's grey eyes widened with unspoken mirth above her lovely, feral smile, dark brows arched meaningfully as the edge of one thumbnail slid lightly over the First Mate's graceful throat.
"So!" Antonia tapped Nicolette impishly on the tip of her nose with one finger, laughing softly as she stood to her full height. She wrapped the fingers of one hand steadily about the First Mate's forearm, and helped her from Thomas' lap and bed as kindly as Nicolette herself had been to the rogue only moments before - and just as insistent. "All is well! Let's be up then, shall we? Come now, up you go! Up up!"
She turned to the helmsman, transfixed it seemed by the sight of the golden angel Nicolette in all her dripping glory. "Jax? Yes you, standing there drenched and incredulous - come in, come sit if you like. It would not surprise me if this storm was having its way up above, is it not?"
The rogue settled back on the edge of Thomas' bed as Luc leaned his head against her knee. Antonia lay her hand over those drenched, ebony curls, her fingers running lovingly through his hair. She could feel the exhaustion in the boy, radiating like shimmering heat from his slender form. With a soft sigh, she turned to look to Thomas, her grey eyes taking in the whole of his body, traveling to his chest and abdomen - and widening in surprise when she saw what was left of the siren's bite. But for some swelling and redness, the whole of that mortal, poison-riddled wound was... It was healed. Antonia bit her lip happily as she looked up to Thomas' face, incredulous fingertips oh-so-gently tracing the outline, wondering if this would be yet another scar to one day colorfully commemorate with a tattoo artist's inks.
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