It wasn't as if they were a new sight to him; something he'd never seen before. Rosa's scars were many and varied, but it just so conspired that her typical outfits covered all but one of them.
(Sadly, the scar that was left bare was the one which had cut the deepest, as it were.)
Even so, in the gentler, private moments where those marks weren't hidden away under layers of clothing, they still caught his eye occasionally. By and far the most impressive set was the endless lattice of red that twisted and branched its way down her entire body; a writhing network of livid lines that stretched from her back to her ankles. On his species, lightning just left a burn to eventually be healed off, but apparently on humans it left a mirror of itself. They intrigued Azzanadra the most.
The rest either concerned or enraged him (of course, the lightning marks had horrified him at first glance too, but since then the sheer difference had replaced that emotion).
"Do they not hinder you? You've accrued so many mementos of your adventures." Rosa glanced over her shoulder at him, pale nightshirt half-pulled over her arms, and frowned at him, aware now that he'd been watching the whole time.
"I-I could ask you the same question, you know. You've got scars too - not as many as me, but you certainly got yours from something a tad more drastic than any of mine." Rosa's voice was half indignance, half plain curiosity. She left the nightshirt draped in her hands, apparently understanding that this was the topic of discussion now, but cheeks no less flushed for it.
Azzanadra's reply was a hum. He lifted his hands, for once free of his heavy gauntlets, and flexed each finger in turn.
"Not so much. My injuries happened a very long time ago, Rosa, and you know how we heal. Still - I doubt that they will ever go away." Rosa scoffed, and leaned over to poke at his open palm, covered and discoloured by stiff, shiny skin.
"I'll say! You blocked a deathbomb from a god! All by yourself! I'm surprised you even have arms after that! Instead you got away with some burns. That's amazing."
Azzanadra laughed in turn and scratched playfully at Rosa's forearm before she straightened away from him again.
"I would like to remind you that it was a bit harsher than that at the time," he remarked, expression a ghost of a smirk. "I was unconscious for at least a day, so Wahisietel told me." For a moment something dark passed his face - regret, pain - but as always he didn't allow it to linger. "At any rate, Rosa, I hardly think comparing a few millennias-old burns on a mahjarrat is fair to you."
Rosa smiled half-heartedly at him and shrugged.
"Well then," she began, rolling her shoulders, "let's say that none of my scars were as well-earned as yours."
"No?" Azzanadra's voice was light and questioning, but not accusatory. He reached out and rested a hand against the jagged pits encircling Rosa's neck. "Not this?"
He moved his hand to rest flat on the oversized, ropy mess of poorly-healed flesh on Rosa's stomach. "Nor even that? Gouges from fighting hand-to-hand with an arch vampyre? I would most certainly call those earned, regardless of the circumstances behind them - which were noble in your case, Rosa." For a moment she went red again, flustered with pride - until Azzanadra took his hand back and grinned at her again.
"Of course, I must say that seeing Heart drag you here missing a few organs and vast quantities of blood was quite the experience. We barely knew each other, and already I was having to put you back together!"
Rosa sputtered and swatted his hand away, shooting a glare at him that was only partially sincere.
"Oh fine, that bunch of scars were earnt. I'll call it even with you there. Now if you'll kindly stop making jokes about the time I was mauled, that would be lovely." Her only response was a single deep laugh, and she punched lightly at Azzanadra's shoulder again (taking a second to awkwardly readjust the nightshirt in front of her afterwards).
"You haven't answered my first question, though. Do they hurt? Bother you in any way?"
"Well… y-yes." Rosa had lost her previous ire, and glanced down at the hardened mass on her torso, gaze distant. "These ones make it hard to twist, and the lightning scars sting if I bend too far. The bites aren't too bad; they healed pretty well, but I can definitely feel them."
She sighed, and in that motion her posture deflated, shoulders sagging and head turned away. She freed a hand to gesture noncomittally at her face, and when she spoke again her tone was muted.
"Probably can't… see as well out of that one as I used to." For a moment, hunched as she was, Azzanadra could see all the bruises again - the handprints, the raking claws, the torn and darkened skin. It was all gone now, though once or twice he'd caught a faintly discoloured patch on Rosa's side or back.
"That is all I wanted to know. You need not explain anything more to me. Mine do not much impede me, so I wished to know if the same was true for you."
"Mm. There you go, then." Rosa finally wriggled into her top and stretched her arms overhead, letting them drop to her sides with a short huff. After some hesitation, she shuffled over on the bed and huddled up against Azzanadra's side, focusing on how much warmer he was than her. It was decently distracting, until he lifted her up into his lap and kissed softly at her neck and jawline.
"Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad, Azzy. You haven't offended me or anything." Rosa patted reassuringly at his chest, resting her forehead on his shoulder once he was done.
"Yes? Then perhaps I could leave you with some other marks in a while."
He laughed out loud and leaned away from the arm that came swinging for his face, shark teeth bared in mischievous glee at his own joke.
"Not now! Have some taste for once, Azzy."