10-07-2019, 12:50 AM
When it came to scars, Wormwood wouldn't exactly say that he was an expert – that was too egotistical, along with the fact that he wasn't as old as some others in the group who no doubt had more scars, like Perseus – but he certainly also wouldn't say that he was unfamiliar with scars either. It was pretty clear from just looking at him that he had gone through a fair amount of injuries and scarring himself. From the most obvious being the large bandage that covered his now missing right eye, to the smaller scars that riddled his body from fights he had gotten into as a cub. In addition to this, there was also the large jagged scar on one of his back legs that was in the shape of a bite mark, perfectly sized for the shape of Vathmos's mouth, the one fragmented reminder of the incident that had happened when the hyena had gone into a blood rage. That wasn't even mentioning the crooked claw mark scars that streaked across his flank, another reminder of another fight, this time against the fox leader of the Pitt, Jervis. Unlike many of his other scars, he actually wore those scars with some amount of pride, since it signified him taking on the "fearsome" little leader of the Pitt and getting several nasty shots in before he got all sliced up. The marks had been nothing to write home about, but they had been deep enough to leave scarring, in addition to the fact that he had almost bled out on the way home because of them.
As a result of all these different scars, Wormwood hadn't even blinked twice when he had seen the long scar that had stretched sideways across Echo's throat, looking rather gruesome compared to the rest of her rather pretty appearance. He hadn't really paused upon it for too long, figuring it wasn't worthy of contemplation. He had figured that it had been some sort of battle scar from the sea, or that it was the reason that she wasnt able to speak in anything except for echoes of others' words. He supposed that didn't make sense, since if her vocal chords had been cut she wouldn't be able to talk at all, even in the word fragments of other people, but as had been previously mentioned, he hadn't exactly thought it through thoroughly. Either way, he didn't think of her throat scar as anything to be too horrified over, since it was just another marking of her story. Scars had never been something to be ashamed of to him, and perhaps Echo thought that was foolish, considering the way that the society of the sea seemed so much more harsh and overbearing and judgemental, but Worm didn't think it was foolish at all, so this was why he ended up looking with a great deal of confusion when he saw Echo sitting in front of a puddle, looking dejected. She looked like she was about ready to go running off and dive back once again beneath the sea, and he really conceivably couldn't figure out why, so before the chaser knew it, his legs were carrying him over to her. He watched her for a moment before he spoke in a soft rumble from the back of his throat, his head tilting as his one blue eye softened as he took in the distraught look on her face, "Echo? Are you alright? You look as though you've seen a ghost, or something like that... do you need to talk about it...? Er... do you want me to help you talk about it?" He didn't want it to seem as though he was patronizing her, he just knew that she wouldn't be able to respond without her library of words to echo from, and he didn't know how much she had at this point.
As a result of all these different scars, Wormwood hadn't even blinked twice when he had seen the long scar that had stretched sideways across Echo's throat, looking rather gruesome compared to the rest of her rather pretty appearance. He hadn't really paused upon it for too long, figuring it wasn't worthy of contemplation. He had figured that it had been some sort of battle scar from the sea, or that it was the reason that she wasnt able to speak in anything except for echoes of others' words. He supposed that didn't make sense, since if her vocal chords had been cut she wouldn't be able to talk at all, even in the word fragments of other people, but as had been previously mentioned, he hadn't exactly thought it through thoroughly. Either way, he didn't think of her throat scar as anything to be too horrified over, since it was just another marking of her story. Scars had never been something to be ashamed of to him, and perhaps Echo thought that was foolish, considering the way that the society of the sea seemed so much more harsh and overbearing and judgemental, but Worm didn't think it was foolish at all, so this was why he ended up looking with a great deal of confusion when he saw Echo sitting in front of a puddle, looking dejected. She looked like she was about ready to go running off and dive back once again beneath the sea, and he really conceivably couldn't figure out why, so before the chaser knew it, his legs were carrying him over to her. He watched her for a moment before he spoke in a soft rumble from the back of his throat, his head tilting as his one blue eye softened as he took in the distraught look on her face, "Echo? Are you alright? You look as though you've seen a ghost, or something like that... do you need to talk about it...? Er... do you want me to help you talk about it?" He didn't want it to seem as though he was patronizing her, he just knew that she wouldn't be able to respond without her library of words to echo from, and he didn't know how much she had at this point.
[glow=black,2,300]THE FREEDOM OF FALLING[/glow]
— Reggan