“I suppose that is correct.” He wasn’t quite sure about the intelligence of seals, but if the sea had captivated her then who was he to question that? Vladimir ignored her flinching and took no offense from it. She wasn’t like other humans—there was something completely feral about her.
He scratched at his collar bone subconsciously as he noticed that Karma was staring at him. “Scars remind someone like me that the past is real.” Vladimir didn’t like healing himself all the time—looking perfect wasn’t something he wanted, especially since it made him seem even less human than he all ready was.
“The past, hm?” She closed her eyes as she thought about it. It was an interesting perspective. Karma had never wanted to truly forget her past as a human, it was just something that came with living simply in the now. Her parents’ faces were fog in her memories, the side effect of avoiding them for so long. Looking back at Vladimir, she shrugged, “If you want to remember the past, scars might be a good way.”
Karma’s own scars were reminders of nothing important, she would not be able to tell which seal gave her which scars or which seal hunter had gouged her flesh. It was all survival for her, and she rather enjoyed the simplicity of living by pure instinct. “When the faces of those who gave the scars to you blend into a mass of other faces then the past stops meaning as much as the now.”