Skin Curious (Matt/Muk)

[shava4444]

I DREAM OF GARDENS IN THE DESERT SAND

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( I dream of love as time runs through my hand ) [/b][/font]
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It was no big mystery that Mukhtar found Westerners to be bizarrely weird sometimes. Certainly he came from a vastly different culture, but even after five years he still found himself wondering about things some days. Like the other day when one of the girls had asked him if he wanted to join them in a game of pirate treasure. What they failed to realize (as most Westerners had an "ego" thing about no culture being more important then the Western ones) is that pirates in the rest of the world were not the same kind they were used to and he might never have heard of theirs.

His refusal to join in turned into a real confusing discussion when they questioned him why and he explained he saw nothing fun about being machine gunned to death. When the girl in question frowned and explained this was about buried treasure on islands, he gave them a very perplexed look and asked why any pirate would bury money when they had starving families to support back home. It was clear from their faces they just didn't get it nor did they understand the difference. The only pirates from Africa were desperate men, striving to steal on a scale they could save themselves from certain disaster in their homeland.

These cushy-life kids had no idea how the real world was. Burying gold? Insane. They had probably never seen a child gutted in front of their eyes or people dehydrating to death either. Why, they probably even locked their animals up in their zoos! Muk shook his head at what these people called 'civilization' and knew he was looking forward to home again and the year had just started. Walking into the boy's bathroom, he picked a stall and did his business in the "western way" (which had taken some explaining as it was a real cultural no-no to do such in running water -- THAT had been an interesting story his family had been shocked by!).

It was while washing his hands that he looked up in time to see an opportunity as one of his housemates entered. Usually Matt Wolfe was reclusive and quiet, staying out of the areas Muk could easily catch him to ask a question. In all these years this might have been the one time he wasn't already distracted by others or free to take his time. So he waited, studying his own face in the mirror until the other was at a sink, choosing his question carefully. "Excuse me, Matt, but may I ask you a question of a somewhat racist nature? I think that is how your people say it here..."

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Words:
Notes: nada
Lyrics: Desert Rose by Sting
Credit: Shava
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[Matthew Wolfe]

With most work pushed aside and out of the way, Matthew found himself with a little spare time and chose to knock it away by either use of further research or simply laying in bed, motionless and all but completely dead to the world. A nap is a precious thing and shouldn't be wasted or used lightly. It had been an exhausting few days for the young man, but he pushed through and preservered regardless with a small grin on his face while doing so. A lucky week. Meetings with the stray friends he found witin the castle walls and out. Yet as welcoming as a nap sounded, he had ended up in the green houses playing around in the dirt and furthering his knowledge on the medicinal plantlife that could be found growing within and taking the extra liberty of jotting notes as he went.

Over and hour quickly came to pass before he realized what time it was and blinked owlishly at his watch for a moment. Damn, he thought before he brushed himself off and headed back inside. Too much time in the green houses was just that. He strode down the corridors and passages and wound his way through the stone interior until he came to the rest rooms and ducked in through the boys door. The hinges creaked slightly with age as it parted the way for him and he stepped inside. He took no notice of the other company within the space and completed his business in relative peace. Any other student might have chanced the wave or friendly greeting in passing, but not Matt. It was just his way to keep to himself and quiet. When he exited the stall he made his stop at the sink and ran his hands under the tap for a quick wash with soap. He kept his head down and only stole the chance to look at his reflection to assure himself his hood was still in place.

No vanity to be had on his part. Mirrors weren't for seeking the beauty of his own appearance and checking if there was anything on his face, not for Mattie. Mirrors were not very kind objects.

As he dried his hands, the voice of the other captured his attention. Matthew glanced over, keeping his 'good side' in view before he gave pause. A quick glance around the room told him that yep, they were the only two in the room just then and the question was directed at him. He straightened up a little and nodded ever so slightly.

"Um, sure. I don't see why not." The reply was quiet and curious as was the expression he wore on his face. Eyebrow cocked slightly to further express his curiosity.

[shava4444]

I DREAM OF GARDENS IN THE DESERT SAND

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( I dream of love as time runs through my hand ) [/b][/font]
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Muk had always wondered about Matt's desire to hide his face. Whether he feared his looks or was just a shy type of person, he had never understood the drive which caused him to be so careful all the time. One was who one was so for Muk the idea of hiding cause you didn't like the way you looked or were afraid of other's reactions did not fit in his world. You accepted in the desert, otherwise you died trying top present a face to others you were not; life was worth far more then looks in his land!

Still, several students had been offended by things Mukhtar had said before so he hesitated before speaking again. "Before I came to Hogwarts I saw no one with skin so white as I do here so pardon if I am insulting because I don't know much about your race physically..." he tried to stave off any bad feelings in advance, just in case, as questions about races tended to upset most westerners he had noticed ('odd people,' he thought), "but is this a marking to show wisdom on your face? I've often wondered."

He motioned to the area in question, not realizing how extensive it actually was as Matt hid it constantly. "We have some among the Ilkelan who have darker skin then mine," he pulled back his sleeve to run a finger down it's length in example as he looked down, "who have it after they get much older. Some of them become Marabouts known for their wisdom eventually, but not all." He looked back up, nothing but curiosity in his face, hoping to understand.

In fact in many other people's across Africa such marks could be seen as marks of wisdom, but he wasn't as familiar with those tribes. The desert tribes had never made any big deal about skin which seemed rather preposterous anyway when it was the person's lineage and mind that were important, not what color they were. He had had quite a animated discussion the other day (animated on the other's person's part, he didn't really understand the problem) when said boy had discovered his family owned slaves.

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Words:
Notes: This is gonna be interesting
Lyrics: Desert Rose by Sting
Credit: Shava
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[Matthew Wolfe]

Matthew stood still and stoic as he listened with patience to the questions and musings the other spilled carefully from his lips. He assured himself that he would take no offence to what Muk had to ask. There was a suspicion about it, however, and he felt a little uneasy but definitely not offended or insulted. It was natural curiosity and when the reality of it finally broke the air and the topic was indeed about his birthmark he had to almost surpress a winced. Thankfully it never showed through, but the little self inside his head was pulling a blanket over his head to cover his face and what bit of his neck was showing. He waited until Mukhtar had finished completely before he drew in a breath and sighed through his nostrils which flared just slightly in response to the action.

"I'll assure you that I'm not insulted or offended." Best to cover the ground first and keep another person from worrying about it longer then needed or was necessary. "It's just something I was born with," his tone was low and quiet, as if he were spilling a dark secret from a past he was unwilling to share. It was not intentional but he often treated his marks like a plague and avoided them as such. "Many people have them, but theirs are much smaller and usually are barely visible." He shifted slightly and looked around the bathroom, judging whether or not he should show the other. Ultimately his housemate was clearly not looking to add salt on a wound but simply to learn and understand the thing for what it was. He made his desicion and brought a lightly trembling hand up, fingers wrapped around the hoods edge and he pulled the cloth down to show his face in full.

His hair was a little tousled and askew, but that was the price of wearing a hood constantly. The hair was not what would draw attention though, it was the clear and very dark mark that was risen a hair on his face from the rest of his pale flesh. The skin was a little more coarse and rough in appearance then the rest as it encircled his left eye completely and covered some of his cheek and then up into the hairline where it disappeared only to reappear dotting down his neck and hiding underneath his uniform.

"Our society calls them birthmarks." He explained gently, leaving his hood down, but the task proved to have a clear level of difficulty for him. He swallowed and stole himself. Eyes kept firm. "There is no real known reason for them.. they do not serve a purpose. Some people are born with them and some without and they're not usually a problem." His voice was quiet once again. "But then there are a few people like me who um, tend to suffer a little more then others." He contemplated showing the other his arm as well, just to show him how far the 'damage' went, but couldn't bring himself to reveal anymore. A huff of air was released from his lips. It was said that birthmarks were evidence of your murder in a past life. Of how you died and Mattie sometimes caught himself trying to imagine what kind of horror his past self had gone through, what kind of sin had been commited to allow for this disfiguration.

[shava4444]

I DREAM OF GARDENS IN THE DESERT SAND

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( I dream of love as time runs through my hand ) [/b][/font]
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The other let him finish before beginning and he pondered if he had said it clear enough, without offense. After all, some people took offense over the oddest things sometimes. Like this hesitation the boy had over some marks on his skin? Inconceivable in the society Muk had come out of; he'd be more a stand out because of his paleness, the mark something of curiosity. Born with it? Ah, so not all white people were as pale as parchment and unblemished. as he pulled his head back and showed his face, Muk's interest sharpened.

Stepping forward, he looked across the other's face with every evidence of great interest. It was nearly the color of blood, though darker like a rich wine color. "May I ask why you seem so...hesitant I guess is the word? A marking like that in my society would mean you were destined for great things, wisdom beyond your years. In fact, when you graduate if you want to come see me, I can prove it to you. Wizards are few in my part of the world..."

His hand came up hesitantly. "Does it have a different texture? Or does it feel like normal skin? Is it just a color? And if it bothers you, have you not tried a color changing spell?" The Marabouts he knew would have given a right arm for something like that, especially in such a color. Most of the people in the desert tribes got something either dark or far lighter on their skin as they got far older. A child with one of those, well, he would command respect Muk would think. Man. If presented right, this boy could be a prophet in North Africa in a few countries, not just the tribes. Amazing how much where you were born changed your entire life.

A thought occurred to him and he smiled, a genuine smile at Matt before he spoke. "Did I hear you were interested in Healing?" After Matt responded he said with some enthusiasm "Well! In the desert we wear, I don't think you can translate it, but it's a head covering which would cover most of your face without it being a hood if you liked and we always need a healer. There are many dangerous creatures in the desert, raiders attacking caravans, and rockfalls. You could have respect and do some real good if you were interested. You'd have to put up with them trying to get you married off though..."

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Words:
Notes: nada
Lyrics: Desert Rose by Sting
Credit: Shava
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