He arched a brow as he worked on the soup. Clearly his attention mostly on her. He didn't care if he spilled a little soup, which he didn't. That would have sucked on his bare chest but he was much better at multitasking than he would ever admit. He always downplayed everything about himself aside from the deadliness he speaks of. His intellgence, his feelings and his instincts, he plays them all down wanting people to underestimate him.
He stayed silent for most of her explaination, the only sign that he wasn't spaced or starting to be taken back by the fever was how sharp his eyes were at the moment. He was mentally fully aware at the moment one of the rare moments in hours of fevered delirium. He was pretty much convinced he had imagined Bull and Ragnar, at this point.
Thorfinn sat the bowl aside, by the bowl that everything else went in when his body rejected it. It was already nearly empty anyway. He moved closer as she scotted up. Still he had said nothing, that quiet way he had proved himself to have since moving in. His head tipped to the side a bit.
"...Fuck." one soft word escaped as he looked over the light colored sigils. Moving his scarred rough fingers up just barely brushing them over the exposed skin. "I have never seen such designs so light... how did they do it? Is this a spell?" He had questions but shifting as he had his body was already sending signs that the fever was building slowly again. He hated being sick. The brown eyes curiously tracing the marks. "It heals you... you have no scars at all do you?" He looked at her a bit confused.
"I will have much explaining to do when I am better."
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Date: 2016-12-14 01:54 pm (UTC)He stayed silent for most of her explaination, the only sign that he wasn't spaced or starting to be taken back by the fever was how sharp his eyes were at the moment. He was mentally fully aware at the moment one of the rare moments in hours of fevered delirium. He was pretty much convinced he had imagined Bull and Ragnar, at this point.
Thorfinn sat the bowl aside, by the bowl that everything else went in when his body rejected it. It was already nearly empty anyway. He moved closer as she scotted up. Still he had said nothing, that quiet way he had proved himself to have since moving in. His head tipped to the side a bit.
"...Fuck." one soft word escaped as he looked over the light colored sigils. Moving his scarred rough fingers up just barely brushing them over the exposed skin. "I have never seen such designs so light... how did they do it? Is this a spell?" He had questions but shifting as he had his body was already sending signs that the fever was building slowly again. He hated being sick. The brown eyes curiously tracing the marks. "It heals you... you have no scars at all do you?" He looked at her a bit confused.
"I will have much explaining to do when I am better."