Her hands fall to her side as she waits. Elektra knows it is going to be bad. While her face is usually a serene mask of perfect indifference when she knows bad news is coming or she leaves one of these houses, Elektra can't hide her unease now. To both their credits it is warranted once he shows her what the damage is.
Elektra steps forward so she can trace the shape carefully with her fingers. She isn't trying to sound deep when she says bodies don't lie. The new scars tell her more than he ever could about what happened during his absence. She hovers over his chest as she studies where exactly the blade went in.
All she sees is self-indulgence, arrogance, and frankly shoddy work towards the bottom half of the skull. Whoever did this was no artist. She can't help thinking she'd have done better if she were sadistic freak. Once the clinical assessment is done, Elektra only feels a burning anger. Who were they to put their hands on what's hers? She knows it's wrong as soon as the thought forms. It's ugly and possessive. She will not be like the men who have hurt her over and over again because they felt entitled to her in some way. It doesn't change how she feels at all. Seeing someone carve into him for their satisfaction deeply bothers her.
(Maybe because she knows exactly how it feels.)
Elektra draws away angrily. Her hands form into fists at her side as she meets his eyes bitterly. "I will not insult you by fighting your battles without being asked to. If they're still alive and I encounter them by chance, I will be taking one of their hands for this. I expect you not to interfere with that." That's all she has to say on it seemingly as she turns on her heel to leave without any thought to where to go or what to do. Her feelings on what happened to him should not be his burden to bear. She rather take it somewhere else.
no subject
Elektra steps forward so she can trace the shape carefully with her fingers. She isn't trying to sound deep when she says bodies don't lie. The new scars tell her more than he ever could about what happened during his absence. She hovers over his chest as she studies where exactly the blade went in.
All she sees is self-indulgence, arrogance, and frankly shoddy work towards the bottom half of the skull. Whoever did this was no artist. She can't help thinking she'd have done better if she were sadistic freak. Once the clinical assessment is done, Elektra only feels a burning anger. Who were they to put their hands on what's hers? She knows it's wrong as soon as the thought forms. It's ugly and possessive. She will not be like the men who have hurt her over and over again because they felt entitled to her in some way. It doesn't change how she feels at all. Seeing someone carve into him for their satisfaction deeply bothers her.
(Maybe because she knows exactly how it feels.)
Elektra draws away angrily. Her hands form into fists at her side as she meets his eyes bitterly. "I will not insult you by fighting your battles without being asked to. If they're still alive and I encounter them by chance, I will be taking one of their hands for this. I expect you not to interfere with that." That's all she has to say on it seemingly as she turns on her heel to leave without any thought to where to go or what to do. Her feelings on what happened to him should not be his burden to bear. She rather take it somewhere else.