Curate, connect, and discover
I love this!!!
Everyone stared at the scars on Count Fwhip’s body, the many scars across his chest and back now fully exposed by the way his shirt and jacket had become tattered in the explosion. He knelt near the center of the explosion site, still having attempted to defuse the device in order to allow others to escape.
Fwhip’s arms came up to try to block the view of his chest, but between his chest and back both being on display, there was nothing he could do to hide his body completely from sight.
He heard the sound of footsteps approaching him and he curled up even tighter, trying to hide from whoever was approaching.
He heard no words following the footsteps stopping in front of him, though he could tell that the figure had crouched down and was doing something.
Fwhip felt cloth fall over his shoulders, covering his body from the gaze of onlookers.
When he glanced up, he was shocked to find Jimmy crouched in front of him. Upon further inspection, the Codfather had given Fwhip his cloak. That was not something to be done lightly. Not in Oceanic cultures. Especially not when done by the ruler of the Codlands.
A Selkie’s coat was their life. To give his to Fwhip, to hide the scars that were so clearly on display, that meant something. Fwhip didn’t know exactly what, but it was something.
Fwhip finally let himself cry, feeling the exposure, the vulnerability of his lack of clothing so keenly now that he was safe from view. Jimmy hid even that from onlookers, pulling Fwhip close and letting the other man hide his tears against Jimmy’s chest or neck.
“I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Fwhip, against all odds, believed him.