Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-29461586-20150602035155/@comment-5543592-20150604004701

"No." Scire smiled. "They have meaning in my tribe.  The ones on my biceps." He took her hand and ran it over the markings on each arm. "Stand for my being a Farseer.  My sense." Scire realized he'd already said too much- no one was supposed to know about that. People were distrustful of Farseer's- such people with Scire's power were met with superstitious fear. A Farseer could tell anything about someone- if they were lying, how they were feeling, whether they were going to attack. It made people feel as if they could hide nothing from them.

He'd have to pass it off as if it was nothing. "The falcon on my back..." That represented his sense too, but also his name. Scire was an Ashlander word for "bird of prey."