The hands of a human reflect their life, their choices, their struggles, their everyday life. The hands of a young person can be more ragged than the hands of someone old, someone who has lived their lives.
But that wasn't the case for Arken, His hands were worse for wear, calluses that he had to clip every other day, scars from old battles and harsh training. His hands were perhaps the only part of his body not possessing any wrinkles in his old age. Precisely because he had used so many potions to restore them to their original form.
They had been so bruised many times they were the newest part of his body, as strange as it sounded. But even then, even the ridiculous amounts of potions and healing magic performed on them, they were weary, his fingers would not often move as he wanted them too, his grip strength a shadow of his past. His joints ached, and he wanted to sleep more than anything nowadays.
