Atlas
The first thing Goredolf noticed
were
hands.
Plain face, scrawny body. But the hands. The hands set this person apart. The hands were proof of who they were.
Glowing glyphs. Bright red seals. Master’s hands.
It had angered him. A mere human! Barely even a mage! Bearing these powerful seals. What a joke.
The first thing
Goredolf noticed
were hands.
A new voice in the Shadow Border. Fresh meat brought to their table. The faint hope that they might actually survive this. And,
hands.
The master had taken off their gloves. Maybe they’d done so before, a couple times. Goredolf knows he hasn’t been paying attention.
He realizes there are many things he hasn’t been paying attention to.
Hands. Scars. Burns. The misalignment of knuckles and wrists. Callouses too big for these too small hands.
Masters don’t fight with their bare hands. Mages don’t fight with their bare hands. And if they ever did, whatever damages they’d get, they could heal. Especially surrounded by other mages and alchemists and (heroic spirits, because from what little he’s heard, they just roamed free, in these cold halls.) It would take powerful curses to force these wounds to remain. Powerful curses, or an especially weak body. The kind you wouldn’t survive with in the wild.
Except they did.The Master. They’re breathing. They’re alive. They’re human.
Ten fingers, thumbed hands. They’re human.
The first
thing
Goredolf noticed
were
hands.
So warm, holding his owns. So rough, holding his owns. The Master was smiling. There were scars on their face, too. It’s a wonder, whether they ran out of make-up, or out of care to hide them.
“It’s okay.” They said with a warm tone. “We’ll make it through this. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”
Their hands were trembling. Goredolf noticed. He noticed the hands and he noticed the tremble and from anyone else it would be from fear but he knows, he knows, the human before them is way past that.
Their hands trembled. When they write, it comes off like scribbles. When they made that kite, they relied mostly on Mash’s help.
Their hands trembled
around his owns
and Goredolf wondered
if Atlas
quivered so
from the weight of the world.