fₒᵣ ᵢ ₐₘ bₑcₒₘₑ dₑₐₜₕ, dₑₛₜᵣₒyₑᵣ ₒf wₒᵣₗdₛ
Anastasia Morozova is a kinslayer. Anya Varamyr is a murderer. Anastasia is a decorated soldier. Anya is a backstreet cutthroat. Anastasia would die for her country. Anya would die for her friends.
Anastasi...
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Anya had never been embarrassed about her body - Baghra had made sure to teach her daughter that her body was natural. She was power incarnate and her body was nothing but a vessel for her mighty soul.
Anastasia had had no shame in wading through Ravkan lakes, enjoying the feeling of the cold ripples of water lapping at her bare skin. As the World Ender, she'd grown to crave the feeling of warm bodies in direct contact with her own - a desire that had only been amplified once she'd been released from the Little Palace.
But now things were very different. Her body had became a tapestry of everything that had led to her misery. Her finger and toes were decorated with thin sharp lines that would open for the monstrous claws she'd been forced to grow; mighty dark clefts carved two slashes in her back as openings for the dark wings that had burst through her skin. Black lines crept down her neck and onto her collarbones.
Then of course came the intentional markings that had become bitter-sweet reminders of her life under other monikers, not to mention dead-giveaways of her true identity for those who possessed eyes sharp enough to notice. Tiny black suns marked the inside of each of her wrists, an eye was inked at the top of her spine - just below the collar of her shirt, a rather large dragon - made up of simple, yet intricately marked linework - twisted around her right hip and wrapped down to her thigh.
The only tattoo that would have been expected was the mark of the Dregs on her inner arm.
"This is going to take a while," Nina muttered, bottom lip between her teeth as she considered the mismatch of scars and tattoos that was Anya's body. "Did you have to make this so difficult?"
"Sorry Nina," Anya hissed under her breath. "Next time someone uses merzost on me and turns me into a gigantic fucking bat, I'll politely decline." She paused for a moment, looking down at her bare feet. Dark black scars marred her toes. "The black marks won't go, no matter what. Trust me; I've tried everything."
"I doubt the Fjerdans are all too educated on the Small Science of the Darkling," Nina whispered back. "We should be alright."
Nina set to work, pulling out a pale yellow substance and focusing on the dark roots of her hair. Anya glanced around the little room, shivering in her underwear. Wylan and Matthias had turned their backs to her, ears bright red with embarrassment; Jesper sat in-between them, teasing the two boys without mercy - having already seen everything there was to see years earlier. Inej sat beside them, waiting her turn, eyes drooping with exhaustion. Kaz had propped his leg up on a nearby table with a map of the prison in his lap; not directly looking at her, but not turning away either.
