Worn Out Faces

Zenkai would listen to the female as she uttered the words in a thick accent. Hurt. Others hurt her, bad. The young man would give a soft whine, gently nudging her shoulder where there were no scars. “I’m sorry.” The young man would whisper. “I promise you this though. I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” The young man would look around for the flowers that he wanted to find. They were common, particularly in the more tropical areas, but here in southern alacritia they grew well enough.

Finding the plant within walking distance, luckily, the boy would move away from the bear to get the marigold. He would pick the flowers, moving back to the bear and beginning to apply the petals topically to the cuts. They were chewed, made into a paste, before being applied. “This will help with the healing process.” The young man would explain, chewing some more of the petals to apply it to a different wound.