Northstar Vale vivid echoes of the dream on his mind

"Oh, well,"
sculptor's eye, unabashed; treading over the roil of tendons beneath marked ruff; the knotted rippling through shoulders. Gladiator, he; lips part by way of weak wonderment, regardless of the herbalists' clinical notations in the niches of her mind. A sigh; some absent show of humility  —  "I had help."  The contusions drawn throughout him; the rivulets;
"Would you like mine?"
does not know, yet, what this offering is to the beast within this scrapper; cannot bring herself to care; not as impling simper curls the corners of ruined mouth, ever-warring with the glim of greenseer's concern within woeful, wondering gaze.