It’s not too exhaustingan activity to be practicing
the forms of swordsmanship ( & yet the sinewy muscles in his
body are screaming for rest; his chest is close to heaving for
air as he vigorously trains; he’s lost track of how long he’s been
at this; he had taken off his shirt long ago, having found it a nuisance ).
Dark eyes narrowing in concentration as he goes through
a particular routine - his personal favorite - that endeavored to
maim a man in one fell swoop. He has it down perfectly.
He hadn’t even heard the door - too occupied in his task. It’s not
'til eyes are felt upon him ( the hair on his neck stands as a warning )
& Kakashi turns his head to look, doing a double-take upon seeing
Her Majesty there. A clearing of his throat & a hand wiping at the
sweat upon his brow, he stands at attention.
” I apologize, Your Majesty.
I didn’t hear you come in. “
Truly it is indecent for a woman of such stature to see a man of
his class in such a state - not in full uniform & unclean. Especially
with the horrid scars that run along his flesh; unsightly & - at least
he thought - repulsive. Any normal man would wear them proudly;
showing them off with vainglory; telling tales of how they were
acquired to anyone who would lend an ear. But they simply remind
Kakashi of his own trials & tribulations - too many to count & ones
he would rather not seeing every morning when dressing himself.
perhaps she should have had the foresight to knock —— it is in good sense that she does, after all, for she wishes no disruption upon any activity he may find himself engaged in. and perhaps, should she have failed to envisage assignation to any task or activity, she should have shut the door ( quickly and quietly; those of the canine specie, whether man or dog or wolf, are far too perceptive for their own good ) and decided to return at a later time when he is presumably free. but scars, scars are strange things.
morose and macabre they appear — and likely are. do not take this the wrong way; scars are not beautiful things. they are ugly reminders of ugly circumstances, invoking unwanted memories at their very sight. they mar the smooth surface of one's complexion with impurities that sear themselves onto skin, never to be removed. ( she knows; she has her own scars, though not surfaced. ) what more, then, is that they elicit interest upon the most curious of minds — and elsa is no exception. crystalline optics find themselves lingering upon the marks that littered his flesh, finding a pattern in dawdle and avert. it is almost an insentient act — one likened to habit, so to speak. still, she clears her throat, finding composure in clasped fingers and a reticent smile.
he is a warrior, she knows. however, his battles have yet to be put to light.
another time, then.
❛ and i should have knocked before barging in;
i apologize, kakashi. i'd best leave — you seem
to be engaged, and i wish not to interrupt. ❜
