“Nothing,” Xen shakes her head at your absent minded look, leaning down to kiss your forehead. Abruptly the barbarian grips your wrists, folding your arms into your lap. Lowering herself to her knees she grasps you left boot, coaxing it off with circular movements and a bit of tugging, whilst the finger’s of the other hand, pressed firmly into your calf, glide down in the wake of the boot. With them and the socks removed, the copper skin elf wraps her slender fingers around the side of your feet, kneading the soles with the base of her palms, watching the toes dip a fraction in response to the pressure. As she does this, Xen notices the almost invisible scar from the pixie’s arrow just below your right knee. Muttering something she pulls herself over to gently kiss the minor imperfection of the skin, before resuming her focus to the soles of your feet.