[ Hermione raises her eyebrow, looking him up and down in a way that says, no, she doesn't believe he's alright whatsoever. She can see the gash and she's not completely blind, her eyes drinking him in - and she would go on, likely to huff and putt and scold and fret until she was breathless, but she realises that his eyes are drawn elsewhere and she has to pause to think.
Of course. Her lips soften into something sweet and fond, and she reaches behind herself, to press her fingertips against the tattoos that line the skin of her back, gentle, intricate patterns that make her feel home again. ]
They're Dalish, you're right. My lethallan gave me them.
action
[ Hermione raises her eyebrow, looking him up and down in a way that says, no, she doesn't believe he's alright whatsoever. She can see the gash and she's not completely blind, her eyes drinking him in - and she would go on, likely to huff and putt and scold and fret until she was breathless, but she realises that his eyes are drawn elsewhere and she has to pause to think.
Of course. Her lips soften into something sweet and fond, and she reaches behind herself, to press her fingertips against the tattoos that line the skin of her back, gentle, intricate patterns that make her feel home again. ]
They're Dalish, you're right. My lethallan gave me them.