The Ink In-Between: An Anthology

The Jester's Smile

CW(s): character with physical scars/disfigurements, implied violence and torture. 

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"Why don't you just take it off?"

Sine's fingers stilled beneath the mask, nails caught on that one patch of skin, just above her upper lip, that had been screaming to be scratched for the past couple of hours.

"Well, obviously, it's because I like to keep this thing on my face all day," she replied, rolling her eyes at the figure sitting on the other side of the campfire.

The light was as harsh as it was unbearably hot, blurring the edges of her vision and making it hard to focus at first. But she could still see the highlander elf, hunched over against the encroaching darkness, his hands clasped, those sharp eyes glinting like the blade of her favourite knife.

Morgan frowned at her retort, but didn't say anything else. And he wasn't going to say anything else, it seemed, not with the way he was pursing his lips.

She could deal with the awkward silence, that was more than fine. Silence was golden, after all. But that expression bothered her. It wasn't anger or annoyance that marred that otherwise unnaturally smooth skin. No. It was that stupid "I'm deeply troubled and I want to talk about it" face of his. And from her experience, ignoring it only made it worse.

Shifting her gaze away, she clicked her tongue and slipped out her fingers from underneath the mask.

"Look, I'm trying to be considerate here," she said, stressing out the word, the sneer that formed around it mostly accidental. Like one of those odd involuntary tics people have.

You know, throat clearing, eye blinking, nose twitching, that sort of thing.

Hers just happened to be self-mocking.

"Besides, I'm used to... this," she continued, motioning at the whole white and red mask. "Sometimes I even forget I have it on. Kind of like a second face." She snickered to herself, smile growing even wider when the elf scrunched up his nose at her attempt at a joke.

"So don't worry your pretty little elven head," she snorted, stretching out one of her legs on the dirt and leaning back on her hands. "Unless you want to see it that badly."

"I do."

Sine's hands twitched, nails scrapping the dirt. Whole body tensed and coiled up, she threw an empty stare at the elf.

She thought of all the knives, big and small, hidden in her pockets. She counted them all, slowly, in her head.

"No, wait!" the elf rushed to speak before she could even think of a response, raising his hands in a mock shield, as if reading her mind. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, paper thin lips curling in disgust. "I'm not some sort of freak."

As soon as that last word slipped out of his mouth, Morgan winced and dropped his gaze. He even bit his lip, as if to silence himself.

Sine fought against the urge to roll her eyes again. Instead, she relaxed her posture and leaned forward, crossing her legs.

"Then why?" she asked, voice low and measured, squinting at him through the blazing embers being blown about by the mountain breeze.

"I am..." he stumbled, looking down at his hands. Then, as if surrendering, he gave a long sigh and met her gaze once more, eyes steeled against... something.