It made her think of him as cruel as he found her surprise entertaining. There was a bright blush across her cheeks as she fought the urge to turn and run. Not much like her mother, the seductress of men, the woman stared towards the god with wide eyes. "No, but I might be. Though my mother would say I was not named after a violet." She gave him an uneasy chuckle.

Her eyes moved to his scars as she fought moving her fingers towards him to touch them and try to figure out how and why he got them.  Bryn was an interesting man with a long history.  Although it sounded like a long horrifying history to her ears for some parts but she had heard worse in her time as a bard. 

"Aye, as a bard I love hearing stories about them. Even my mother bares scars on her immortal body." When he offered her a spot in the tub she froze up and almost stumbled on her words. "Sure, a bath why not." Slinking over like a shy lynx she shed her robe and pulled her  fiery curls up away from her shoulders to the crown of her head. Sliding into the bath she stared at him once more as she got comfortable. "So how did you get all of your scars?"

It was a simple enough question and it broke the tension she was sure she was causing. Even if he couldn't feel it the woman was certainly very shy now that she wasn't singing or playing. This was a different game for her.

He supposed seeing her shyness that times had changed, while nudity wasn't commonplace during his lifetime, it wasn't considered overly shocking, roundhouses didn't have much in the way of privacy, even a chieftain living in the great hall had only one or two chambers for himself. The great hall he had lived in was as much a communal area as a residence, perhaps even more so. Plus with there only being a few hot springs in the area it hadn't been rare to see one another bare from time to time. Still in deference to her shyness he looked away until Calanthe had settled herself into the tub. He looked back once she had pulled her hair up, and had enough strength of will not to look too closely. After a moment's pause to consider the best way to answer her question he started.

Touching one of the longer scars on his upper arm he said, "This was one of my first, I'd just passed the age of manhood and was expected to take part in the cattle raiding, for the most part the tribes in my area raided back and forth mostly as a way of training our younger men how to fight and ride. It also led to a strong bond between the raiding parties which would serve well on the battlefield." He moved round the tub, a little closer to Calanthe, holding out his arm so she could see it more clearly, the skin was only a shade or two paler than his normal skin tone, showing just how old the scar was. "Unfortunately the tribe we'd chosen for the raid had decided that they were going to make an example of us, so when they spotted our band they came out in force. Usually it was as much sport as about taking cattle, but something had stirred them up and they came with blood in mind. We were all armed with spears, mostly used for driving the cattle, and many of them came armed with swords."

He paused for a moment, his eyes seeming to look past the bathing room's walls to that time again. "They cut down two of our riders before we even knew they weren't treating this as usual. When we realised that we wheeled round and charged a few of them down, using our steeds to keep us from being caught. But my spear caught on something and rather than let go I ended up being thrown. Picking up a fallen sword I began cutting myself free from the crush of people. Taking several hits in return, this one being the worst." It was his right arm, so would have left him only able to wield a blade with his offhand. "I managed to get away and onto a horse, rode off with the rest of the band. The tribe considered it a true warrior's mark, although it hadn't been from the more usual kind of pitched battle." He shrugged, "Needless to say the other tribe were considered the lowest of the low for how they'd behaved. If they'd had a true grievance they should have brought it before the chieftain before drawing steel. For myself though, I kept the sword and it served me well." He nodded over to the weapon that was among his clothes.

She could tell by his eyes and the way he stared at her blush. They were from different times and different places. "I may have some blood of the Highlands in me but my mother comes from the desert. I've always been a bit more shy than my mother. The one who seduces men with just her entrance into the room. We are few and far between but there are some of us who have never courted. Some of us who would rather travel the world first then to feel a man. Others are more like my mother. I've always preferred songs and books to men. Seemed like less trouble that way. Though the greatest bards hold their love stories high." Though her eyes looked distant. "Then there was the matter of never leaving home. Never knowing someone that wasn't from the temple. Not until we are older. You can say for the most part we're innocent in a lot of ways."

Finally it came time for stories as she pulled her legs up to her and rested her chin on her knees. Her eyes stared at him almost in a daze as she listened with fascination. When he moved to show her the scar she unfolded herself and got closer to inspect the scar. She softly took his arm to look at it. "Sounds like some of the stories that the Arriese women have back home." She said it almost in a whisper as she looked up to his distant stare.

"It's amazing the stories that time has to tell," the woman gave him a smile as she finally relaxed around him. She took his arm and looked at the various scars. "I have none myself but I am a simple bard. My mother on the other hand has several." She paused for a moment. "The worst one is a story for her to tell. Most of them come from her time as a battlefield healer. Grandmother always use to tell us that Mother was reckless and always tried to help everyone and anyone." She gave a gentle smile. "I suppose that's why people love her so much."

There wasn't much to Calanthe now that she thought about it. She was rather a plain woman compared to her mother. Her life was sheltered and she was gifted to another god to lighten his halls. "These will make good songs for people to hear." She held onto his hand with both of hers as she gave him a smile. "Try not to get too lost in the past, it makes the future a lot harder." She reached over and cupped his face trying to be gentle and kind like her mother.