Aria glanced up at Phoenix and let out as sigh. This was a change from the night before. Not sure how best to handle this, she simply followed Scholarâ€™s lead and let him be. If he was going to be stubborn and unsocial, then so be it. After all, she had other worries and could wonder about that later.<br/><br/>As Scholar adjusted where she stood butterflies rose up in Ariaâ€™s stomach. Never before had she been this nervous, this anxious. Hopeful. Thatâ€™s what it was. She was hopeful. Taking a deep breath she attempted to calm herself. It wouldnâ€™t do for her to fidget while this process happened. She needed to be calm and still and focused.<br/><br/>And that was when Scholarâ€™s true form was revealed. She sputtered, attempting not to laught. A gryphon? She was in the home of a gryphon this entire time?! And a gryphon was going to help her unbind her wings. The amusement over the situation, and the bit of comfort that such a magical creature was the one running this, helped Aria to relax just enough for the butterflies to leave.<br/><br/>She grinned lopsidedly at Scholarâ€™s apology and chuckled. â€œI didnâ€™t realize that others with such long lives had such qualms about bodies. No wonderful people feel that Faeries are uncouth.â€ Without hesitation she pulled her shirt over her head and moved it out of the way. â€œAs for the holding straight and still, I will try my best.â€ With that she straightened and planted herself.<br/><br/>Aria had been aware of the scar ever since it was brought into existence, but she had pushed it to the back of her mind until now. She could practically see it for herself, and knew what Scholar was seeing. The physical form of the binding was not a pretty one. The symbol on her shoulders, meant to characterize wings in a very simple picture, rose up slightly above the rest of her skin. It was difficult to find out what to call it. Welt, branding-gone-wrong, tattoo-ill-kept. Many different things all fit. The lines rose up and then sliced in. Inside the valleys of the scar were what looked like a tattoo, black ink sat there in the crevasse. All of this in tiny detail. If someone rubbed her back they might have noticed. If someone touched her while her thicker shirt was on, their chances of finding it were small.<br/><br/>â€œReady and at your command,â€ Aria replied, schooling her smile and attempting to crush her nerves and hope.