Words Written Light

Rowan & Aelin

Aelin

That fucking fae bastard thinking he knows all of his shit. Well he can go fuck himself. 

Aelin was back in her room in Wendlyn, happy to have finally gotten a chance to be alone, not that she would ever be alone, not anymore. He ruined her, he destroyed her skin, made it worse for her so that she could never love again. 

Those fucking words burned into her perfect fucking skin, right over her scars. 

His scars. 

Fucking fae bastard was going to pay for this. 

Her nails tore threw her skin, blood bubbling to the surface but she didn't feel it. She refused to sob, or howl in pain, give him the satisfaction. To let him know how much she was hurt. How much she was already broken, how much he broke her. 

Her body used to behold a compliment. Even if she thought it mean spirited at the time, if she treated it to be meanspirited the whole time since, it was now replace by a new mean spirited word, and this time it wasn't just her imagination. 'Bitch' is what was placed on her wrist in the ever florescent black text.

She fucking hated it.

Sam was frozen with adoration when he met her, granted she used that to her advantage when knocking him unconscious, it was a nice thought.

These words ruined her compliment. Fucking ruined it. It was gone. Broken.

Broken.

Just like her now.

It ruined her skin, ruined her past. Was going to ruin her future. Holy fuck, it was suppose to be her future. What was she suppose to do. With this... this thing?

This thing that was already destroying her. The thing that she already knew would heal just the same, with black marks covering the scar tissue. Sam's marks came back as well when she did that, and for nearly half a second they were black.

If she blinked she missed it, if she wasn't paying attention it would occur without her notice. But for half a second, he was alive. The ink was BLACK. The colour of life, when all you were pining on was a tattoo to tell you such things. Aelin might have been called gullible, or sad or lonely. Maybe she missed him too much but the only way she had to counter such words spilling from ones mouth is to sever their tongue from their mouths.

That was something she has accomplished more than once.

She let her own teeth dig into her flesh, hoping that the deeper the wound, the longer the black ink would stain her hand. No, not stain. A stain was unwanted, that is what Rowan's ink was doing to her. That's all he as a person was, an inconvenient stain. The otherwise scarred in was welcome and a fleeting glance.

Which is why she utterly lost her fucking shit when her arm was refusing to bleed a reasonable amount. In fact, she was bleeding a lot. More than what was healthy, or considered okay.

So, like the responsible assassin she was, she flung her door open, marched to where she located the closest thing to a servant. Or at least they were the first person she came across, she didn't really care who or what they were at the moment. For her only spare shirt was wrapped around her upper arm, acting as a tourniquet, causing the male to look quite confused when she blamed Rowan.

"I'm not sure who I should talk to but your head boy Rowan attacked me in my room. It was a good fight, but I seem to have sustained some injury, however minor. Who am I suppose to talk to?" She gestured towards her wounded arm, and talked animatedly, will still keeping herself together enough to seem as though her had been in at least a minor scrap.

The man blinked at her, but still offered a half cocked grin as if he could read her lies.

She already fucking hated him.

"Well," he began, "I think if you took a few left and a right you'll come across someone who can help you. Someone will see you eventually and offer their assistance, though you might want to keep the story to yourself. People around her won't take well to hearing that their precious hawk has been defeated by a human." He sneered the word, like it was something dirty and poisoned his tongue to say. Still, he winked at her before he kept walking, farther away from her.

Turning forwards she muttered. "Well fuck." And before she could do anything, Rowan was leaning lazily against the wall before her. What pissed her off more than that was the fact that she didn't hear him.

The previous male she could count the distance between them with the count of their footsteps alone. Him, she didn't even know he approached.

His arms were crossed. "So, I heard you're telling people you beat me in a fight."

She crossed her arms, the best she could given her situation, to imitate his stance. "I heard you severely hurt your little bitch."

Severely was an overstatement, but he could burn in Hellas.

He narrowed her eyes, so she did the same. "I heard I can take you to a healer, but that's the last kindness you'll receive from me."

Aelin straightened her back, making herself look taller than she is and more intimidating. "I heard you're a fucking cunt." And, given her already injured situation, his vision only crackled before he grabbed her good arm in a bruising grip and dragged her to a healer. Her body was thrown, half conscious, onto the witches stone floor.