Night Raven College Staff 1
Summary: Scars. As the magicless janitor of this college, you have gained a lot of them. The staff here notice it and it bothers you in different ways.
(I'm in that romance repulsed mood again. I see ship art or fics and my soul wants to escape my skiiiiin. It'll fade and I'll be back to being neutral about it. I don't really ship anything or anyone anyway.)
There’s really something unfair about the way magic works on your body.
You’ve seen the way bruises receded on pale skin, the way orange sized bumps became nothing without a stretch mark to be seen. You’ve seen the way gashes with gushing wounds would just close without needing so much as a stitch or a scar.
Like magic, injuries and wounds became nothing. Therefore, one could toss a fire spell, aim it at anyone and not worry about what’s left behind.
But, that’s how the bodies of these people’s work. Not yours. The wounds knit together just fine, but they always leave something.
Scars on your hands from swinging branches. Stretch marks from nearly being pulled apart. Patches of scars on your arms from when you nearly lost all the skin there. Little pinhole scars on your shoulders. Some on your thighs and ankles from when the skin sloughed off.
So many, all in a compacted space of time. You look in the mirror and somehow your brain just can’t register that this was you now. It’s annoying. Irritating. At least you have clothes and gloves. At least none of them are out of place.
“Well?” Ashton wiggled your new tracksuit in your face, somehow managing to drag you away from your books for some light exercise. The sleeves were too short.
“No, it’s fine,” you sighed out, tugging your fraying collar over your neck, lightly scratching the little raised bumps there, “No need for any of that.”
Something irritated you about the way Ashton didn’t push it. Just, gave in instead of doing that bulldozing over your answer until you gave in shtick.
Sam was…Sam.
“Sam, mind getting some clothes for me?” This wasn’t the first time. If anything, it’s become routine. Usually has some very nice clothing at decent prices.
“Of course!” He always happy to make a sale. “I’ll even throw in some gloves as a bonus.”
He’s been throwing in all sorts of clothing bonuses since…well since you started wearing long sleeves over anything. He doesn’t need to do that and yet he does so anyway.
Annoying, but you don the gloves anyway. They fit perfectly, as always.
Mozus is at least tolerable. He never speaks more than needed. He even closed his eyes when you had to take off your jacket to air yourself out when you were in the staff room.
You appreciate it, and yet it still rubbed at you the wrong way all the same. You never said you hated the way your skin healed over and yet Mozus knew enough to leave you to your privacy.
Divus wasn’t any better.
“You sure you don’t need any help with that?” He asked after you were sure he went to recount the ingredients for his next class…
“No, it’s fine,” you sighed out again after putting the box on the desk, gently rolling your shoulders, pain thankfully missing, “No need for any of that.”
He never asked before. Why’s he asking now? You’ll ask for help when you need it.
And Dire…
“Stop looking,” You scratched at your wrist, pulling up the sleeve to cover it, “it’s annoying.”
That mask does nothing to hide where his eyes are landing. Doesn’t help that his irises are just, bright little lamps.
Really, what can you do besides just live with this? Eventually, a new normal should set in. You just hope it’s sooner rather than later.
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