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But might as well try anyway!

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A long, rough scar snaked down her bare back, a serpent that curved gently along the contour of her left shoulder, sloping diagonally across her spine, falling down past her waist right hip, before disappearing beneath the hem of her tight, dark denim jeans. She held her silky, platinum-blonde hair away from the mar with the long, thin fingers of her right hand, her left busy making sure her front is efficiently covered from his, most likely, prying eyes.

The scar was almost beautiful in the way it slithered across her otherwise perfect, nearly paper-white skin. Its roughness could almost be the scales of a long, thin snake. When she moved, it danced, rippling as her muscles did, almost like a living thing. Even as she stood still, the roaring flame in the fireplace made it flicker and jump. In contrast to her unmoving body, it looked as though it were moving of its own will.

She turned her head to the left, her eyes closed--afraid to gauge his reaction at first-- her long white lashes nearly touching her own cheeks. When she lifted her lids, she revealed astonishingly bright emerald eyes, looking as though they were back-lit by their own inner light. They slid backward to gaze at him. He was completely entranced by her scar.

He was quite the opposite of her--while her beauty was refined, controlled, his was rugged and natural. His skin was dark, his long hair black and scruffy, his features squarish and well-built. He had more of a shadow than a beard, which accentuated his rugged features. He looked like a pirate in his features, and some kind of lost prince in his tasteful garb. His striking violet eyes were intent on her back, tracing her scar back and forth, flashing with pain, as though he were feeling her wound himself. "Ouch," he whispered gently. She could still hear traces of his deep bass voice in the statement.

"Now you know," she replied, her soprano voice just as prominent in her whisper.