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Summary
Scar doesn't even twitch. What's Grian going to do? Putter around and huff and gasp and set his hands to his hips, shaking his head? Maybe flutter his wings a few times? Scar's not afraid of him. Grian can't touch him. With a sword or otherwise. Scar presses his hand on the end of the bed again, like he's forcing a cookie cutter into a cardboard puzzle.
"Grian… I can't feel the blanket."
"Get out of my room." Grian's words snap like fireworks. Wow. That's kind of rude.
It’s not like there’s a Red Lives 101 course you can take to learn more about this curse (and Scar would probably zone out even if there was). He doesn’t know much. Just that the colors are all weird, his hand doesn't seem like his own, and he can’t even feel the texture of the wool blankets on Grian’s bed.
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