Perception {Dreamnotfound}

7 | Rivals | 7

-George's POV-

I turn my head, wide eyes as I take in the true identity of my new friend.

Dream, or Clay, is even prettier than I imagined. At last I can fully see his apparently green eyes. I think they're a lighter green, maybe the same as the trees. Those eyes are adorned with long eyelashes which brush against his freckled cheeks as he blinks.

Full of freckles, which I barely caught a glimpse of before, now hidden by his deep blush. Nervously, he pushes his hair away from his eyes.

As he described, there's scars and cuts littering his face. Unkept, none looking properly medicated. We definitely don't have the supplies to deal with them currently, so I make mental note to get some when I'm in central city.

There's so many. Two in a criss-cross pattern over the bridge of his nose, a smaller one on his cheek. Another under his jawline, a similar one beside it looking fresher.

The only seriously concerning injury is the barely healed cut on his forehead. I caught a glimpse of it when Clay moved his hair, and he seems to have noticed. It's bandaged badly due to lack of a mirror or someone to help.

Even with all of the scars littering his face, he's pretty. Most of them aren't that big, shallow cuts seemingly dealt in combat. But the one across his forehead is deep, like a blade was plunged into it instead of just grazing the surface.

Clay is still staring at the floor, unable to meet my eyes. I carefully tilt his chin up to match my gaze. "Hi Clay, thanks for saving me. I'm George, it's nice to meet you too."

Just to lighten the mood, I extend my hand in greeting. He takes it with a quiet laugh, shaking it overly enthusiastically.

"So, can we begin again?" Clay asks suddenly. "I've gone a while without a friend, and I want someone to trust again."

That must've been so hard to do. Even now he's acting so self consciously, probably begging for the mask back. I return it to his hands, watching him replicate the smile of the face on it.

"Of course. It'll take me some time, but it'd be nice to have a friend around." Clay silently cheers, smiling suddenly brightly. He flattens out the petals of the peony I left in my hair, bringing our foreheads close enough together that I can see the messy wound in more detail.

"Mind if I have a look at that?" My fingers drift towards the bandages, hanging in midair as I wait for his permission. A silent nod is my answer, and I carefully start to uncover the injury.

The wound is messy, a mixture of dried and fresh blood stuck to it. Definitely a deep cut caused by a sword or dagger.

"Does this mean I can finally sort out that cut across your forehead too? You look so pale you might end up fainting." Clay's eyes flicker back to my forehead, which is mostly covered by my hair. You can probably catch a glimpse of the awfully tied bandage beneath.

"Maybe" I reply, immediately changing the conversation. "So how did you get these?" Lightly I brush my fingers over the scars on his face, examining them closely. Mostly closed up, Clay must've got them a while ago.

"My friend has a very experienced hunter. They'd attack us night after night, so I got a little injured fending them off. He hangs around in central city now with another group of people. Even his hunter isn't dumb enough to fight him now."

He flinches suddenly as I brush my fingers closer to the open wound. "Sorry. Your friend must've been lucky, don't know why he'd leave to the city without you."

Clay cuts the conversation short, changing the topic. "The cut you're looking at is from your hunter. They dug the blade into my head."

"Sorry" I cringe again, knowing I'm the reason he has this injury. It must hurt a lot.