07-27-2022, 11:30 AM
[CW: gore]
The reason why Chéri did not wish to have Tristan take care of him, was that he found Tristan had the look. More commonly found on nuns, schoolmasters and carpenters too soft for their own good, the look was something that highly moral folks had on their face that firmly positioned Chéri as an inferior who deserved help more before anything else. And Cheri hated that with passion. Maybe that wasn't Tristan's intent, maybe he just naturally had what Chéri read as "the look", but it was enough to put them off.
However, Chéri wasn't stupid. They thought about the colour the wound had become. How high were the chances of coming back from purple? Not high. And the bandages didn't help enough.
Chéri sighed. They looked at Tristan one last time with uncertainty and decided it was worth risking some pious blabbering or pitiful gesture for relief.
Without a word, they sat where they were supposed to and opened a portion of their kimono. They didn't care about being naked in front of anyone, but the good doctor might have been squimish after all, so the exposed just what was necessary. On the inner part of their right thigh, there were some bloody carvings, oblique lines ( \/\ ) that intersected each other at the tip. The cuts were weeks if not months old and only partially healed. Chéri stayed silent and looked straight in front of them, unchanged on the surface.
The reason why Chéri did not wish to have Tristan take care of him, was that he found Tristan had the look. More commonly found on nuns, schoolmasters and carpenters too soft for their own good, the look was something that highly moral folks had on their face that firmly positioned Chéri as an inferior who deserved help more before anything else. And Cheri hated that with passion. Maybe that wasn't Tristan's intent, maybe he just naturally had what Chéri read as "the look", but it was enough to put them off.
However, Chéri wasn't stupid. They thought about the colour the wound had become. How high were the chances of coming back from purple? Not high. And the bandages didn't help enough.
Chéri sighed. They looked at Tristan one last time with uncertainty and decided it was worth risking some pious blabbering or pitiful gesture for relief.
Without a word, they sat where they were supposed to and opened a portion of their kimono. They didn't care about being naked in front of anyone, but the good doctor might have been squimish after all, so the exposed just what was necessary. On the inner part of their right thigh, there were some bloody carvings, oblique lines ( \/\ ) that intersected each other at the tip. The cuts were weeks if not months old and only partially healed. Chéri stayed silent and looked straight in front of them, unchanged on the surface.
