Hannibal only laughed that short, barking laugh of his in response. The boatman's opinion of the tattoos seemed ironclad, but so was the young Jedi's. It didn't matter if the other man didn't agree or understand or whatever it was. These tattooed scars of his were for himself, after all.
At close range he looked over the scars Emryc carried as well. He made no judgement of his choice to keep it as it was but rather observed them from a medical perspective, looking at the patterning and initial impact site while he could. It was easy enough to tell the injury had been far from pleasant. Quietly he wondered what dark warrior he'd encountered to receive such an injury, and what skills he might possess himself to have survived.
"Maybe they don't," he answered breezily, waving his hand through the air and causing the image to briefly blur. "But they don't have to, either." While he was far more open than he'd been once upon a time he still didn't particularly want to burden others with the weight he carried overmuch if he could avoid it. The idea made him uncomfortable.
Emryc stretched, moving to stand, and the projection began to fade as Hannibal drew back from the connection. He was fairly sure trying to project an image of consistent movement would be more nauseating than helpful. Emerald eyes watched the other man for a couple seconds. Hannibal shrugged and stood up himself, brushed some of the dirt from his pants, briefly looked at some the newly squashed plants, and then followed up behind toward the hill.
This also gave him a good look at the lash marks across the boatman's back, new and old. These weren't injuries he was as familiar with. Although whip marks weren't uncommon amongst freed slaved those were inflicted by another and these looked different. More obviously self inflicted.
"I gotta know. How long did it take you to build that boat of yours?"
At close range he looked over the scars Emryc carried as well. He made no judgement of his choice to keep it as it was but rather observed them from a medical perspective, looking at the patterning and initial impact site while he could. It was easy enough to tell the injury had been far from pleasant. Quietly he wondered what dark warrior he'd encountered to receive such an injury, and what skills he might possess himself to have survived.
"Maybe they don't," he answered breezily, waving his hand through the air and causing the image to briefly blur. "But they don't have to, either." While he was far more open than he'd been once upon a time he still didn't particularly want to burden others with the weight he carried overmuch if he could avoid it. The idea made him uncomfortable.
Emryc stretched, moving to stand, and the projection began to fade as Hannibal drew back from the connection. He was fairly sure trying to project an image of consistent movement would be more nauseating than helpful. Emerald eyes watched the other man for a couple seconds. Hannibal shrugged and stood up himself, brushed some of the dirt from his pants, briefly looked at some the newly squashed plants, and then followed up behind toward the hill.
This also gave him a good look at the lash marks across the boatman's back, new and old. These weren't injuries he was as familiar with. Although whip marks weren't uncommon amongst freed slaved those were inflicted by another and these looked different. More obviously self inflicted.
"I gotta know. How long did it take you to build that boat of yours?"
@Sreeya