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Tazendra | Dragaera novels | OTA but fade to black
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fearlessherosheart
2014-10-19 07:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[a single black mark, that she's not bothering to hide]
[Optional starting prompt: feel free to specify your world or Tazendra's]
[One wonders what a woman with a black mark on her wrist, as clear as day, was doing in a bar, drinking wine and flirting with people, but she doesn't seem sad about it.]
[Optional starting prompt: feel free to specify your world or Tazendra's]
[One wonders what a woman with a black mark on her wrist, as clear as day, was doing in a bar, drinking wine and flirting with people, but she doesn't seem sad about it.]
[Two red marks. One is darker than the other.]
[ One faded red mark. One deep scar. And one deep, dark black mark. ]
[ buffy has a black mark and a scar ]
[ spike has three scars, that sad sac. ]
[ One black mark. ]
[No marks or scars unless working with existing CR/PSL ship ♥]
[No marks or scars unless working with existing CR/PSL ship ♥]
[ooc: Probably has quite a few marks, red and black, along with a number of scars. There's a reason he got an axe tattoo there during the rock era, but it can't cover all of them.]
[Done deep scar, black around the edges.]
[His wrists are just a mess of black, red, and scars. After all, he is the nation of love, non? And he's not afraid to show it.]
( there's only one mark, but it's unusually bold in the way that is normally associated with the elderly, with those who married barely out of their teens and have children, grandchildren, and fifty or sixty years behind them, as though it's pooling ink, growing larger and darker: even the scars of those marriages, when they inevitably are drawn to an end, tend to be slate-coloured and not easily replaced.
but it's unusual for such a young man. )
but it's unusual for such a young man. )
Hael had gotten into the habit of wearing long sleeves whenever he went to job interviews. Inevitably, if he didn't, he'd be looked at a little strange for the sheer number of marks he had, especially with how young he was; Hael had loved very freely in his life, and never let whether they turned black indicate to him whether he should continue to love a person or not. He had many that were not. The most recent one, up near his elbow, was still very much red, and at this point, he knew it would never be black. The splint on his right hand where his fingers were still healing from that asshole breaking them was proof enough of that.
It was hardly a trait of his family, or how he'd grown up; his twin sister, Drina, had no marks on her, not a single one, and they had both wandered the world since they were fifteen.
So of course he had worn long sleeves for this interview, but the Louisiana heat always got to him, and he had already pushed his sleeves up. The sarcastic blonde vampire who was asking him questions about his qualifications had finally stopped grilling him on why he hadn't bothered to apply at any of the local restaurants; he was glad for this, because he really, really was tired of working the back kitchen and staying stuck back there interminably just because of a shaky ability to read, and because he had a strange accent. He could cook insanely well, but he never got any further than being a fill-in or prep chef, because it was inevitable that people found out he couldn't read very well. So he knew enough about alcohol and bars to be a qualified bar back. It was a shit job with minimal tipping, but Hael had never needed much, and at least in a vampire bar, he ran half a chance of meeting someone who didn't just speak English.
Of course, he ran a great chance of meeting people who hated Roma, but you gave some, you got some.
It was hardly a trait of his family, or how he'd grown up; his twin sister, Drina, had no marks on her, not a single one, and they had both wandered the world since they were fifteen.
So of course he had worn long sleeves for this interview, but the Louisiana heat always got to him, and he had already pushed his sleeves up. The sarcastic blonde vampire who was asking him questions about his qualifications had finally stopped grilling him on why he hadn't bothered to apply at any of the local restaurants; he was glad for this, because he really, really was tired of working the back kitchen and staying stuck back there interminably just because of a shaky ability to read, and because he had a strange accent. He could cook insanely well, but he never got any further than being a fill-in or prep chef, because it was inevitable that people found out he couldn't read very well. So he knew enough about alcohol and bars to be a qualified bar back. It was a shit job with minimal tipping, but Hael had never needed much, and at least in a vampire bar, he ran half a chance of meeting someone who didn't just speak English.
Of course, he ran a great chance of meeting people who hated Roma, but you gave some, you got some.
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