Scar From Wuthering Waves Novels & Stories

I guess that’s why I have my scar, a reminder of the fact that I’ll never be as strong as I need to be. As strong as I want to be. Maybe I deserve the scar…. I-i know I deserve my scar it’s all my fault. I… I need to search the body. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, collected the supplies and got to my feet, stumbling backwards as my backpack settled on my shoulders.

I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady, despite the fear making my knees weak. Scar-face chuckled, a harsh, humorless sound. “What do we want? Oh, little wolf. We want a lot of things. And you, sweetheart, are the key to getting them.” He took a step closer, his eyes glinting. The rifle felt like a living thing in his hands. I instinctively took a step back, bumping into the cold concrete wall. “Don’t worry,” he continued, a mocking smile twisting his scarred lip. “We’re not going to hurt you. Not yet, anyway. We just want to have a little chat with your boyfriends.”

Devin came to Scott. He had been crying for so long that his tears had run dry, leaving his eyes red and swollen. As he stumbled toward the door, a sudden blast of cold wind made him shudder. I followed him back to Scott's house next door and saw Scott sitting numbly on the couch, as if he had been drained of life. When he saw Devin approach, he stared for a long time before saying in a cold voice, "It's time we settle some scores."

Scar whispers, pulling at his hair and making his way into the bathroom attached to his tiny room, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Scar's hair just wasn't satisfying his urge to feel something. He was disappointed in himself, he was acting like a reckless teenager and the worst of it was he didn't even know how old she was! What if she were a minor? What if Scar was thinking these unholy thoughts about a teenager? Scar clawed at his wrists breaking the skin on them once again. He grunted and moaned out in pain. Scar felt good, it felt good when he felt something - even if that something was pain. Scar could feel the tears running down his face, he had officially lost it... again.

“You told me once you were addicted to my face. Said it was your drug. Well… it’s gone now. Just scars. So please—go find someone whole.” “I’m so sorry, Jake…” Ariana choked out. “Sorry?” I laughed bitterly, my head shaking. “I wish sorry could fix it.” And then—something warm touched me. A hand. Small. Soft. Real. It was Liz. I knew how her hands felt. “Jake…” Her voice was soft, trembling. Her eyes were dripping with tears, but she didn’t look away. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t disgusted. She was just… there. She touched my scars like they were nothing, tracing them without being disgusted.

Scar responded with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "What do you want?" Len asked, her patience wearing thin. "I just want to enjoy your delightful company," Scar smirked, fully aware that his words would irritate her to no end. "You're just so...ugh!" Len clenched her teeth and balled her hands into fists until her knuckles turned pale. Scar, the sadistic soul that he was, reveled in the spectacle while savoring the taste of wine in his hand. "Are you afraid of me?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow and approaching her with a mischievous smile plastered on his face.

“That Scar Icegard is your mate. The same one that was stolen from his family years ago. The same one that was stolen from you years ago.” Tears flood my vision, distorting everything. I sway again, the paper slipping from my fingers and fluttering to the floor. My hands fly to my head, gripping tightly, like I can hold the world together if I just press hard enough. How is this possible? How is he here? How did this all happen? Scar, a werewolf? A vampire? How? “Scar is a werewolf?” I ask, confusion choking the words as a sob claws its way up my throat.

He'd be no match for it. He shrunk back in fright as the wolf approached him, it's blue eyes glowing at him. "No...No....!" It pounced on him and left a deep scratch on his face. The moment the wolf left him, he took to his heels, panting heavily. Scarlett was almost out of breath. Behind blurry vision, she watched as the strange wolf attacked and sent Rolf away. It turned to her when it was done and let out a loud howl - one that echoed into the depth of the night.

Wearing a see-through white dress that seemed meant for indoors only, she carried a thicker wave of the scent that was heavily rested in the room. “It's okay sweetie,” Scarlett hushed, “don't get worked up. It's me, Scarlett.” she stooped to ruffle Winter's mane on approach making her aware of the fact that she was in wolf form at the moment. She hadn't noticed the shift taking place on her way down the stairs.

Scarlet says, her eyes narrowing as she takes a much closer look at the chubby middle-aged wolf who is currently curled up into a tight, shivering ball on the frozen ground. "Does your memory folder still carry a file on my face, Mrs. Scarlet?" the bruised middle-aged wolf groans, lifting his battered head out of the slush. He uses a bloody hand to brush his messy hair off his forehead, staring straight up at her apron with clear, bloodshot eyes.