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Bryony Capper (goodlight) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"Tickets... for us?" It was obviously what Marcus was implying, but Bryony still felt the need to check because - Quidditch tickets, to a real match, to watch Rowan play. She'd never been to a match. Had never even watched the House matches at school. Quidditch stadiums were no place for a lady, according to Iris Capper. Not even when one's 'intended' was a professional Quidditch player. Bryony had begged and begged to be allowed to go, before the war, before Marcus was taken away to Azkaban. Could she really go now? She'd have to lie to her Aunt. Hecuba didn't report to Bryony's mother, but she did gossip with Ephron who was far too distracted to be relied upon not to let it slip. She looked up at him, obviously desperate to go. "Really? You'll take me?" If she went with Marcus she needn't be afraid of the crowds. He'd protect her, just like he always had. Before he had a chance to change his mind, she beamed at him and nodded. "Yes, please. Marcus, you're amazing, thank you." She didn't even feel embarrassed at the way all her words seemed to tumble out at once. If she'd been as light on her feet physically as she felt in that moment, she'd have danced.

Even focusing on where she knew the Mark had been, Bryony couldn't see even a faint outline of it, it was too thickly covered over with new layers of ink. She knew how much he had hated it, and for it to be so completely gone was - there weren't words. "Oh, it's amazing," she breathed. She turned his arm over again to see how the scene wrapped all the way around. Her fingertips continued to trace trees and birds, a casual intimate touch she would never dared share with anyone else and yet thought nothing of with Marcus.

The more she looked, the more certain she was that she had seen the scene before. It took a moment to register, the different medium and the fact she'd never actually seen a tattoo up close before distracting her until she drew in a breath and looked quickly up at him. "I-" She'd drawn this for him. It was the scene from the window at Pineview Hall. She was certain of it now, but it still seemed too arrogant to say. He hadn't - couldn't have - had something she'd drawn for him permanently etched onto his body. "It looks like something I drew for you once," she said instead, blinking as her gaze flitted between his arm and his face.