The water ripples and churns. A series of ficlets. 45 - "I don't have any."
28 July 2006
Xena was lying on her stomach, arms folded up to bunch the soft pillows under her head. A light hand tracing over her bare back made her shiver, but her eyes remained shut.
"Persian with a mace. Broke two ribs."
Dark eyes narrowed in a way that would have made Caesar very glad to be several decades dead.
"Don't," Xena said, eyes still closed. "I was stupid enough to get caught."
The hand traced painstakingly over the network of thin lines, and the room was silent but for Xena's even, patient breaths.
"What about this?"
"What?" She turned her head to look.
Her lips quirked. "That's not a scar, Ares. You made that."
He bent over and kissed the mark, but his smile slipped when he sat up and looked down at himself.
"I don't have any," he said softly, almost plaintively.
"I don't mind," she said.