<div align="center"><em>Autolycus, interacting with the self-mutilating Pict<br/>Infirmary</em></div><hr/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v200/Prakkie/Medicus.jpg)</div>Autolycus watched, fascinated, as Sorcha cut into her own skin. The medicus had been shocked when she smashed the bowl – for a second he thought he’d made a horrible mistake – but then he’d realized, with a kind of cool professionalism, that no harm was being done. These were shallow wounds she was making, not unlike the ones made to create those other marks on her body. Yes, he remembered those all too well, he’d copied them onto his wax tablet, he’d traced them with the wet sponge, with his fingertips… And now he watched her make this new mark, leaning close to the cage, so close the brown curls on his forehead brushed the bars of the cage.<br/><br/>He wondered what her carving meant and as if she’d heard him thinking that she pointed to it and spoke his name - well, her distorted version of it. His name? Carved into her skin!? That was… A most curious thing to do. And he wasn’t sure he liked it. It reminded him of the brands some slaves wore, ownership marks. And that in turn reminded him he wasn’t Sorcha's owner, the Dominus was. He wondered what the Dominus planned to do with her.<br/><br/>He found himself hoping he’d leave her here, with him, at least a bit longer.<br/><br/>Purely for scientific interest of course...<br/><br/>He was roused from his thoughts when Sorcha asked to be let out of the cage. Again. "I can't let you out..." he tried to explain, emphasizing the 'out', a word she seemed to understand. He shook his head emphatically to make his meaning ever clearer. "You show me you can be good. Then I'll let you out." He wanted to see she could behave, better than she had so far, and wanted to see her do so without drugs in her system. If she could do that, then maybe he would grant her a bit more freedom.<br/><br/>Autolycus turned away and went to his workbench to grab a piece of cloth, soaked it with the vinegar he always used to clean wounds, then returned to the cage and handed it to her, pointing at the wound. "It'll make it better," he said, slowly and carefully.<br/><br/>His eyes moved from the fresh mark to an older one, a kind of animal it looked like, that was on her inner thigh. He pointed to it. "That... Does that have a meaning too?"