Disclaimer: I do not own Morgan or any characters in Fire Emblem: Awakening. They are property of Nintendo.
Morgan was sitting in the back of her tent, chest bare, examining her clavicle.
Along one end, to her left shoulder, there was something she couldn't quite make out in the dark. There were faint rays of light seeping in from one tent edge pried free of the stake, which she had done herself so she could study tactics in private, (not taking the time to ask others for a lamp- and so she could surprise Father with her knowledge). They betrayed something that looked like a fancy horseshoe, a mark in that general shape but with large protrusions that may or may not have looked like seeds.
Biting her cheek in mild frustration, Morgan inched closer to the edge of the tent and shivered slightly, leaning in and stretching the clavicle's skin out. For no real reason other than to feel like she was improving her sight, but still.
"Hm."
Yes, it was definitely shaped like a horseshoe with seed protrusions- no, eye protrusions- going along the sides. Staring up at her, all six of them. Yeah, that was seriously weird.
Can I tell Mother about this?
Of course, Mother knew about involuntary tattoos. She had earlier asked Morgan if she knew where the "Brand of the Exalt" was on her body, and she…had had to answer no. (Later, though, she'd borrow a hairbrush from Cynthia and be gleefully informed of the Brand on the back of her neck.)
No, which wasn't to say she would stop looking, because the least that Morgan could do for a woman she barely remembered a thing about was have something almost compulsory on her skin, something that meant the world for her family.
So what was this? Nothing like the Brand in Mother's eye, definitely. Maybe they came in different shapes? Maybe something about Morgan was just...special?
Ha, no. Nope, naturally Mother would have told her when she heard that Morgan didn't have the Brand yet. Or maybe she was just like Lissa, and it never surfaced. But the possibility of something else would have been brought up, right?
Gah.
Morgan stood and reached for her shirt. She'd go ask Chrom? He was the ruler of Ylisse, so he should definitely know. And if he didn't, she'd just go dig through some more books until she found out.
Putting an arm through the shirt and trying not to break the stitches, because nowadays they took the clothes they had money for, Morgan brushed her finger over the mark again. Dried paint? No, ridiculous.
On her way out, she stopped and stooped to pick up a right glove. Father's, naturally, and Morgan just shook her head. Some planner! She'd have to take up his work early at this rate and let him start studying tactics.
And so a bubbly, bright child of exalted blood happily took a detour to Father, wondering why he even wore gloves in the first place.
