Awesome post!
Lucia had been so focused on her male counterpart that it had not occurred to her that she too sported a slight difference. Hers, however, was somewhat more permanent, and very badly healed. She had left it without care as to enjoy the pleasure it delivered from the pain it created. And yet, the more disturbing factor was not that she had done it herself, nor that it had begun to scar horrifically, it was what it represented. A snake firmly wrapped around her ankle, reminding her every day of what she had lost. It seemed fitting, and maybe it would scare her nightmares away.
Zalen, however, didn’t seem to find the whole ordeal that amusing. He had been staring at the patterned wound for a few minutes now, having not responded to her compliments. This frustrated the obsidian woman greatly. Why should she go to all that effort to be nice if he couldn’t even listen to what she had to say? Crossing her arms angrily, perhaps like that of a spoilt child, Lucia watched as Zalen started to move. His head lowered, and before she could acknowledge exactly what he was going to do, she felt the warm wetness of his tongue on her ankle. This shocked Lucia greatly, for she had not experienced such kindness since the time in Inferni when an older woman, Kaena, had bandaged her wounds from the beating she received from Snake’s admirer. The only scar remaining being the symbol carved into her right shoulder. She should have known on that day that Snake would never truly belong to her.
Her leg twitched, wanting to move away, but it remained still. There was something strangely enjoyable about that salivary warmth crawling over her healing wound. She wasn’t sure whether it was because aftercare wasn’t exactly her speciality, or whether it was simply because of the male who delivered the licks. Curling her lip in confusion, and perhaps disappointment, she watched as he lifted his head. Throughout the unusual cleansing, Lucia had remained silent, unsure of what to say or how to feel. He always found a way to put her in places she didn’t want to go, or as he had done tonight, places she had never been before.
As he stared at her, now seated, Lucia wondered what was going through his mind. It was obvious that he did not approve of what she had done, but at the time of the deed, it had seemed like a brilliant idea. Add that to the excessive alcohol she had consumed, almost to the point where she could have died, and this was the end result; a carved up ankle and a continuous reminder about her former lover. Lucia could think of better things she could have done, but that was then and this was now. There wasn’t anything she could do to change the past, so why bother with the brain power?
Shoving her thoughts away, Lucia turned her attention back to her shadowy companion. He had taken it upon himself to deliver affection. Rigid and unsure, Lucia simply watched as his head rubbed neatly against her shoulder. Trying her best to smile, perhaps in a strange way of saying thank you, her ears flickered as he spoke. He told her how she appeared in the midnight; no doubt he found it particularly unusual that she was sober. Lucia had little idea why this was, but seemed grateful enough. It kept her mind level and her thoughts controlled. That was good enough for now.
However, the compliments didn’t last. He spoke of the serpent-like scarring, his eyes almost seeming to glare at it. It was as though he was trying to erase it with his sight. At this, Lucia shifted her leg uncomfortably, tucking it beneath her and now partially cross-legged. She wasn’t sure what to say, how to explain. She didn’t even know if she needed to. It wasn’t technically his concern, was it? He didn’t own her, control her… or maybe he did. Maybe the obsession had come to a point where Lucia couldn’t even lie to herself anymore. These were terrifying thoughts, and as such, Lucia gave the simplest reply she could, trying to block out the paranoia that had begun to rear its ugly head. “It seemed like a good idea at the time…” Tone blank, voice quiet, and eyes now firmly on ground in front of her. She felt ashamed, maybe even filthy for her deed. She was a worthless nothing. This was what she told herself as the self-loathing came out to play.