[A sad smile pulls on to his lips as he spots the mark. He ignores her sulking and instead unbuckles his own britches, tugging down the right side as best he can to reveal his own curse mark, the same mark in almost the exact same position.]
Not a broadmare. A skala. [Perhaps it is inherited. He feels some bitter fondness when he considers it.]
no subject
Not a broadmare. A skala. [Perhaps it is inherited. He feels some bitter fondness when he considers it.]