GA: How'd you get this|
It was on a particularly wintery night when the welcome warmth of your moirail’s palms smoothed across the curve of your hip, touching your destestedly hideous scars, ones that you’d rather not have marked your skin at such a young age.
At the soft exclamation of her question, you were glad for her to have been the big spoon tonight, all the better for you to bury your head on the mounds of pillows and hide your trembling lips from her gaze.
“Vvas a slimy lusus tha’ did it,” you say, ashamed of admitting how weak and easily breakable you were in the past. “Had t’ climb rocky mountains justa git me an enormous kill. Couldn’t afford t’ leavve it be, Gl’bgolyb be THIS close t’ raisin’ her vvoice just a smidge abovve a vvhisper. Nearly got me vvith ‘em huge clavvvvs. Stupid, right?”
Excuses and even more excuses. You were weak, almost got yourself killed due to how laughably unskilled you were with using just your claws. You haven’t discovered Ahab’s Crosshairs yet.
You tug at her hand on your hip and lace your fingers together in a poor attempt to distract her from old wounds. “Doncha vvorry lovve, ‘tis nothin to be concerned about. I got somethin much better right here, after all. If I gotta go through the same thin’ just to be in ur arms again, then so be it.”