KOTLC Oneshots

Biana~ Scars~

Biana Vacker was scared.

Or rather, insecure. And unsure. Yes, that was it. Unsure. 

Why?

Her scars, of course.

Long, jagged white lines that ran down the sides of her arms and half of her back. There were a few on her face, too.

She could still remember the cruel glint in Vespera's eyes. And Fintan's maniacal smile. And the darkness she had been sucked into as she fell unconscious. The horrified expressions on her friends' faces when they found her. The gleaming glass shards sticking out of her own skin, stained with her own blood. The pain. The burning pain that made her whole body go numb.

And the scars.

They were constant reminders of what had happened. Every piercing shock of pain.

So she hated them. No, was unsure of them.

She crossed to the other side of her room, in front of her huge mirror. She rolled up her sleeves and ran her hand over one of them, a particularly long one that traced all the way up to her shoulder.

They weren't ugly. No, they were, in a way, deathly beautiful. They trailed patterns over her arms, like white tattoos. One was shaped in a spiral. Two intertwined to make something like a misshapen B. Another was jagged like rows of teeth.

So she didn't know what to do. She covered them up in public, but when she was alone, the first thing she did was change into short-sleeved clothes. And examine them again.

They were the cause of her friends treating her so carefully. As if she was a fragile butterfly who would break if someone touched her.

Lost in thought, she didn't notice the door opening until too late.

"Biana, dear, could..." Her words trailed off, taking in the sight of her daughter.

Biana looked up swiftly to glance at the woman In her doorway, dressed elegantly, who looked so much like herself.

"Oh! Uh, hey mom. Can I do anything for you?" She asked, hastily rolling her sleeves back down.

"Biana..." Della whispered.

"What?" Biana stared pointedly at her mother, a sign that she wasn't really welcome right now.

Della shook her head and made her way to Biana, sitting lightly on the edge of Biana's bed. 

Biana stared at her and her mother's reflection in the mirror.

Della placed her hands gently on Biana's shoulders, then started braiding her daughter's long, dark hair absentmindedly.

"I know it's hard." She started, but then was interrupted by Biana.

"Well of course it is!" She snapped. "There are these... these stupid scars all over me! Think about what people would say! And don't even try pitying me. I don't want pity!"

"I wasn't going to. All I was going to say is that scars aren't necessarily a bad thing. They are signs of sacrifice. That you showed an act of courage. Think of them like medals, not disgraces."

She finished the braid and secured it with a ribbon.

Biana bit her lip.

"All I want you to know is that we are infinitely proud of you." Della said quietly. She stood back up and pressed a kiss to the top of Biana's head before leaving the room.

Biana sat there in silence.

She thought it over.

Yes, they signified what had happened.
But was what had happened such a bad thing?

Maybe it wasn't.

Maybe they really signified her bravery. They were reminders of her sacrifice, not of pain.

Making up her mind, Biana brought out a pink, short-sleeved gown from her closet and slipped it on.

She was going to be brave, and her scars showed the start.