AFRICA | open + ooc prompt

[Luca]

People called him beautiful a lot when he was younger. Back then he wasn't all too sure what it meant, but he assumed it was a good thing due to the look on their faces when they said it. Their smiles and kind eyes were completely different to the coldness he saw when they called him ditsy and slow and unusual. That last one was his least favourite, because he could never quite understand what they meant. He could tell it was bad though, he could tell from the subtle downwards twitch of their lips, the narrowing of their eyes. His papa heard the whispers too, called Luca an embarrassment and a disgrace. He didn't like the negative attention his son was bringing to the family, and after many failed attempts to 'toughen him up', disowned his youngest entirely. The good looks that Luca had inherited from his mother were all he really had going for him, the only thing he could ever take pride in. Once he went to stay in the church, however, people slowly stopped calling him beautiful. Scars appeared along his back, his wrists and ankles were always raw and bruised, and dark rings circled his dull eyes. It made him a little sad. He used to enjoy the gazes of people as they took in his lush fur and sparking eyes, but now people only looked at him fleetingly. One look at his scarred body was all it took for them to turn their eyes away. Perhaps it was the guilt; after all, the whole town knew they were complicit in their silence.

He had covered them up for a bit, but bandages seemed to upset people just as much as the raw scars. After all, people knew what was underneath. Eventually he gave up and tried to ignore the whispers, paying no attention to the way people only looked at him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. Centuries had passed since then, so Luca barely noticed it by now. He had learned all the best ways to smooth his fur over the jagged pink marks, and sometimes he could even cast a bit of magic over himself to help hide it. Most of his powers didn't seem to be working, though, and the arrival of new scars on his body made all those old feelings come back in a rush.

Luca leaned his back against a tree, bringing a paw to the huge gash on his stomach from where his body had been split. The wound was still fairly fresh and bloody, but he had grown sick of the mess and cauterised it about half an hour back. The pain was intense, sure, but that had never been too much of a problem for the masochistic hellhound. There seemed to be something off about Luca, though. His eyes were a dull blue instead of their usual pink shade, and a sullen shadow had fallen over his face. At this rate, his skin would be more scar tissue than untouched flesh. At least it was mostly temporary- only the killing wound would remain long term. All the rest would go away as long as he could suffer through it. Luca sighed, a large puff of black smoke escaping from his lungs. Perhaps he should cover them up until they were a little less noticeable. He should spare his crewmates the pain of taking in his disgusting condition.