[He shakes his head - at the apology, not the comparison. Scars in others had always held a certain fascination - scars and tattoos. The one told tales of a life lived and an injury overcome; the other a story inked into the skin through the bearer's choice. Gilder had had so many of both he couldn't help but trace them out, fingertips light, cautious but curious over healed and dyed skin, because they were not for him. What fascinated Linneus in others terrified him for himself, but out of practicality, rather than vanity. The brand on the sole of his foot had been enough - any other small scar, or even an imperfection, could put a massive dent in his value, and his value meant everything in the life Linneus had come from.
The injuries he had sustained three months ago had terrified him for that reason. As much as he had come to learn, his mind still returned to Ivore, to the thought that such injuries were not only going to physically scar him forever, but render him worthless in the eyes of others - he would never be looked at the same way again; and the possibility of being valued or treasured was growing all the more distant.
Who would want him in the first place, with his history? Who would want him now that he was scarred?
Such thoughts near consumed him in his captivity, amplifying his fear and his worry and his pain, and even when he was told he could be healed... of course he was afraid to believe, and painfully aware that even if possible, letting his body heal faster than his mind might be awful for him. So it was slow; necessarily so, for his own sake, starting with what was visible and working through.
It was hard to look in the mirror for a long time; but Linneus had had that before, and while it was slow, it was getting better. He was mending; or at least he had been, though at the moment he feels stretched taut and brittle, some how. There's a shaky breath at the hand in his hair and he lets his head roll forward, leaning it against Dazai's shoulder.]
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The injuries he had sustained three months ago had terrified him for that reason. As much as he had come to learn, his mind still returned to Ivore, to the thought that such injuries were not only going to physically scar him forever, but render him worthless in the eyes of others - he would never be looked at the same way again; and the possibility of being valued or treasured was growing all the more distant.
Who would want him in the first place, with his history? Who would want him now that he was scarred?
Such thoughts near consumed him in his captivity, amplifying his fear and his worry and his pain, and even when he was told he could be healed... of course he was afraid to believe, and painfully aware that even if possible, letting his body heal faster than his mind might be awful for him. So it was slow; necessarily so, for his own sake, starting with what was visible and working through.
It was hard to look in the mirror for a long time; but Linneus had had that before, and while it was slow, it was getting better. He was mending; or at least he had been, though at the moment he feels stretched taut and brittle, some how. There's a shaky breath at the hand in his hair and he lets his head roll forward, leaning it against Dazai's shoulder.]