Character Development Challenge
Wren Ridere, Age 19
Prompt: Name one scar your character has, and tell us where it came from. If they don’t have any, is there a reason?
“Where is that one from?”
Wren lay on her back, greedily inhaling air after her so called friend held her under water. The idiot couldn’t understand that her tapping his hand meant that she was done. It took nearly breaking his wrist for him to let up and that hadn’t gone over well. Only by scrambling as far away from the pool did she escape being forced under again. Cani was an ass on a good day and a monster on a bad one but she didn’t think he actually wanted to kill her.
Or so she hoped, he wasn’t the most predictable person.
He was always testing something new in his little lab and today he wanted to see how long she could hold her breath. It hadn’t exactly been a planned experiment, she might have mentioned being able to hold it for so many minutes and he decided that she was going to have to show him.
Now she was wondering why she even liked the sadistic asshole and he was asking odd questions. It wasn’t totally unusual though, he was a curious guy and a claimed scientist. Using her elbows as supports, she eyed him warily. He might have been sitting at the edge of the pool but he moved fast when he wanted to. “Where is what from?”
“That scar.” Cani’s gaze dropped towards her stomach and she rolled her eyes at him. Did he realize how many scars she had on her abdomen? Training exercises, fights, mishaps with her weapons; it all depended on which one he was talking about.
His eyes darkened and she swore she could hear him grumbling about her being incompetent in his head. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done it either.
Before she really knew what was going on, he had moved and his cold fingers were tracing the scar he was curious about. It started just to the right of her belly button and traveled down towards her thigh diagonally. Though it disappeared under her shorts, he lacked a sense of modesty.
She for one was glad that he didn’t do more than trace the part of the scar that showed above the waistband. At least he didn’t totally disregard one thing she said.
“This one,” he looked back up at her expectantly and sat back, “I would have thought that was obvious.”
“I have many scars fish-stick, you have to be specific.”
His mouth twisted into a sneer at the nickname but he didn’t argue anymore. It was about the only nickname that she could come up with that he really felt any sort of true disdain for. As such it became one of her favorites to use whenever he was starting to act snobbish.
Regardless of his attitude, he had asked a question and still looked like he was waiting for the answer. Scars weren’t really a sensitive topic for her so she dropped back down and shut her eyes as she brought the memory to the surface.
“My brother gave me that scar,” Wren could remember every detail of that day. He had been so upset that he hurt her that he barely let her do anything on her own until she was healed again. In the camps, that wasn’t the best of Phillipe’s plans.
“There better be more to that story.”
Swatting at him, and unsurprised when she missed, she only nodded before she continued. “We were thrown into a free for all sort of fight. The instructors did that every once in a while as a way of making sure that we were practicing outside of our lessons. The prize for that one was an extra mat, blankets, and one days break.”
“If you want to hear the story, you’ll shut up.” He had a nasty habit of interrupting. Since meeting him, she had been trying to break him of the habit but she only managed to get him to interrupt less. “But yes, it was effective. Throw a bunch of children who are sleeping on small mats with one thin blanket and the first two things were enough incentive to get us to fight. The day off was the true luxury though because it meant we could do whatever we wanted without anyone telling us no for an entire day.”
Other than leaving the compound anyway, but Cani had already guessed that rule months ago when she described some of the things that she had gone through.
“Phillipe and I ran into each other, literally. I was working my way through, avoiding the main brawl so that I’d have energy and Phillipe was just looking for another fight. He’d gotten a hold of a knife and when we ran into each other, he was holding the knife in front of him. When he tried to pull it to the side so he wouldn’t gut me, he sliced from here to here.” Since Cani was nice enough not to attempt to pull her shorts down to see it before, she traced the scar a second time but showed him just where it ended on the outside of her thigh. “Neither of us ended up winning that day; I was too injured while Phillipe decided to act like a big brother instead of a soldier.”
Though she hadn’t really had much of a relationship with her parents, and she was forced to forsake any chance of one many years ago, Wren was glad to have gotten to know her brother. Phillipe had gotten in a lot of trouble for not continuing on with the exercise but he stuck by her and helped her wrap up the wound as best she could until the medics could get there.
He wasn’t the Golden Boy with her, he was the big brother who she’d missed and who she could share everything with. They were in similar situations after all and there were things that they could never tell anyone else that they could each other.
“That sounds incredibly…” Cani paused for a moment as if looking for the right word, breaking Wren out of her thoughts, “Moronic.”
As much as she wanted to glare, or to even punch him, she only shrugged. It was the life she had and since Cani was an only child, he didn’t truly understand the bond that she had gotten to forge or how badly Phillipe had felt.
“I wish I hadn’t now. I was hoping for something a little more interesting than getting cut by your brother.”
“I have one where I gouged out a hole down to the bone after I was pushed from a platform.”
I know the ages keep jumping around and such but it all goes back to Wren’s time as a child soldier and her time at the camp where she was trained to kill.