It is as I told your grandmother, I am the most sensitive of all the Jars.
[And again, for good or ill.
Still, he shakes his head.] No, not quite like that. [Here, he fusses with the cuff of his long sleeve, rolling it up his right arm. As he does so, he reveals... red markings? Of a dark, deep crimson, thin little lines embedded in his skin. It is almost like a Henna tattoo, except the lines leave tracts like very faint scars, and the color is a little off. A little too red.
It runs all up and down his arm, from shoulder to wrist. Strange, wispy designs, interlocking with each other. Iona's own arm might be able to sense imbued magic present--yes, actual magic--different from the energy generated by his soul.]
A little gift from Rachel's... ah, "family." [He holds his arm up, wiggling his fingers.]
no subject
[And again, for good or ill.
Still, he shakes his head.] No, not quite like that. [Here, he fusses with the cuff of his long sleeve, rolling it up his right arm. As he does so, he reveals... red markings? Of a dark, deep crimson, thin little lines embedded in his skin. It is almost like a Henna tattoo, except the lines leave tracts like very faint scars, and the color is a little off. A little too red.
It runs all up and down his arm, from shoulder to wrist. Strange, wispy designs, interlocking with each other. Iona's own arm might be able to sense imbued magic present--yes, actual magic--different from the energy generated by his soul.]
A little gift from Rachel's... ah, "family." [He holds his arm up, wiggling his fingers.]