Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
07.Nov.12, 10:44 AM
R'nd wasn't off target with his thoughts that B'jin's first desire would be to clean up. His mind was a flurry of thoughts, emotions, so full that the greenrider had gone completely numb, his expression devoid of all emotion as S'kef finally left him alone in the small room that had served as their own for the duration of the flight results, and the occurrences that had followed in its wake.
B'jin had waited, silent and without moving, until he was sure the brownrider had gone. No one would stick their nose in, he was sure, out of fear of S'kef. Funny, how once the very name of the brownrider in question had made all the little hairs down the back of his neck stand up on end in terror; now, all he could feel was the hallow devoid sense of responsibility. It was his fault that the brownrider was so corrupted - his fault alone. It was not B'jin's style to acknowledge that S'kef could have changed that if he had so desired; most particularly since the man had thanked the greenrider for making him what he was that day. A monster. A rapist. A terroriser. Someone who took joy in the sight of another's pain - someone that took pleasure in delivering it. B'jin struggled to his feet, wrestling painfully into the clothing he had been removed from.
His ribs were bruised, maybe broken but he wasn't sure; bruised at least. Talian would tell him the damage later. The greenrider was pleased he wasn't a visible bruiser; no one knew how often N'mall had used him for a punching bag, and he'd been involved with the man for turns; no one but Talian (and R'nd, but he was careful to pretend otherwise) would pick up on just how injured he was. The number of times his head had been forced into contact with the floor, however, had broken the skin, and blonde hair was matted with blood. B'jin's fingers played delicately over the injury, head spinning as he walked across the room. A concussion was the last thing he needed. Sighing as his bland expression altered into a more neutral one, the greenrider slipping out of the room and down the hall, walking close beside the wall and bumping into it at intervals. His head was really pounding.
Love? Larrikith's voice was fuzzy, on the edge of his mind and not quite where he could grasp it. He frowned slightly, pausing in his drunken stumble down the hall to push her gently away. -m --, bath -- Talian. --fine. His thoughts were jagged, broken, and Larrikith gave a creel of distress where she was curled up outside Talian's office; but she didn't move and sad eyes focused on the Healer. He will call us. She told the young man, worried but not willing to smother her rider; she gathered enough to know he wanted to bath before he was pounced on by prying loved ones. They meant well, she knew, but she also knew he wanted his space.
B'jin paused at the doorway of the Hall, using one hand to steady himself against the frame as his gaze blacked out on him again, the other hand allowing his finger and thumb to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was going to be a long walk from Hall to Bathing houses. Taking a deep breath - then rapidly wishing he hadn't - B'jin strode out across the grounds like nothing was amiss. The amount of attention and thought he put into each step would likely be missed by a casual observer, but that didn't make the trek any easier. His knees felt like jelly, and his gaze wouldn't stay focused; stars and light flares flashed before him, and B'jin squinted slightly in response, presumably from the change in lighting. How long had S'kef kept him? Darkness was truly creeping across the grounds, night setting in, there really were stars beginning to twinkle above, but all the greenrider could see were those before him.
Ayyonth! Larrikith's voice was a croon of loving affection as the blue contacted her, the little green near clinging to her young mate as an active mental connection was established. I -- what could she say? Nothing had gone right, and it was her fault. She was hurt, B'jin was hurt, she would guess Veeth was hurt - emotionally, or physically, possibly both - and R'nd was hurt. The single word was smothered in guilt. Sorry... It was a meek whisper, and Larrikith curled in tighter around herself.
B'jin managed to make it to the Bathing houses without being interrupted, strode down the hall with no more than an understanding look from another greenrider (another victim of S'kef? B'jin's stomach churned) and slipped into the first available room. He flung the door shut, and than slid down against it, his head was pounding, his stomach was churning. Oh, fuck! B'jin scrambled across the room to the bucket, the dry heaves eliciting choked cries of pain as the forced action attacked his damaged ribs. Tears toppled down B'jin's cheeks; he had an amazing tolerance for pain, but spewing on an empty stomach was painful enough, adding in damaged ribs was a recipe for disaster all by itself. He clung to the bucket as his gaze blacked out once more.
B'jin... It was a whimper, audible to Talian, to R'nd, and to Ayyonth. She didn't know who to send to her rider; he wouldn't want either of them, but she knew he needed them both. He'll drown! Sudden terror ripped through Larrikith's links as she stood up, eyes spinning with her terror. Her human's mind was a fuzzy field of emotions and nothingness, the result of his concussion that kept her from communicating properly with him, or hearing his full intent in response. She didn't know why she was suddenly afraid the man would drown; perhaps a fear picked up by Talian, or perhaps a buried worry of B'jin's.
The greenrider had pushed the bucket away, when the painful spasms had finally stopped, and clawed his way to his feet, leaning heavily, bodily, against the wall as he shackled out of his clothing and stumbled over to the bathtub. He need a bath, a hot bath, some way to scrub the feel of S'kef from his flesh; some way to try and rinse the responsibility for his monstrosity from himself. B'jin knew it would be futile, even as he scrambled into the bath, his sight useless, and sunk into the water. It was hot, burning hot, and B'jin's lips pulled back in a sneer, bursting the tentative clotting on his lower lip where he had bitten it and making it bleed once more.
"Fuck!"
Fuck his life, and fuck the day he'd ever crossed paths with S'kef! Clenching his teeth, B'jin allowed himself to sink under the surface of the water. His intent to come back up was destroyed as his eyes rolled, and he lost the fight against consciousness. Larrikith gave a shriek of fear, even as R'nd finally burst through the correct door.
B'jin had waited, silent and without moving, until he was sure the brownrider had gone. No one would stick their nose in, he was sure, out of fear of S'kef. Funny, how once the very name of the brownrider in question had made all the little hairs down the back of his neck stand up on end in terror; now, all he could feel was the hallow devoid sense of responsibility. It was his fault that the brownrider was so corrupted - his fault alone. It was not B'jin's style to acknowledge that S'kef could have changed that if he had so desired; most particularly since the man had thanked the greenrider for making him what he was that day. A monster. A rapist. A terroriser. Someone who took joy in the sight of another's pain - someone that took pleasure in delivering it. B'jin struggled to his feet, wrestling painfully into the clothing he had been removed from.
His ribs were bruised, maybe broken but he wasn't sure; bruised at least. Talian would tell him the damage later. The greenrider was pleased he wasn't a visible bruiser; no one knew how often N'mall had used him for a punching bag, and he'd been involved with the man for turns; no one but Talian (and R'nd, but he was careful to pretend otherwise) would pick up on just how injured he was. The number of times his head had been forced into contact with the floor, however, had broken the skin, and blonde hair was matted with blood. B'jin's fingers played delicately over the injury, head spinning as he walked across the room. A concussion was the last thing he needed. Sighing as his bland expression altered into a more neutral one, the greenrider slipping out of the room and down the hall, walking close beside the wall and bumping into it at intervals. His head was really pounding.
Love? Larrikith's voice was fuzzy, on the edge of his mind and not quite where he could grasp it. He frowned slightly, pausing in his drunken stumble down the hall to push her gently away. -m --, bath -- Talian. --fine. His thoughts were jagged, broken, and Larrikith gave a creel of distress where she was curled up outside Talian's office; but she didn't move and sad eyes focused on the Healer. He will call us. She told the young man, worried but not willing to smother her rider; she gathered enough to know he wanted to bath before he was pounced on by prying loved ones. They meant well, she knew, but she also knew he wanted his space.
B'jin paused at the doorway of the Hall, using one hand to steady himself against the frame as his gaze blacked out on him again, the other hand allowing his finger and thumb to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was going to be a long walk from Hall to Bathing houses. Taking a deep breath - then rapidly wishing he hadn't - B'jin strode out across the grounds like nothing was amiss. The amount of attention and thought he put into each step would likely be missed by a casual observer, but that didn't make the trek any easier. His knees felt like jelly, and his gaze wouldn't stay focused; stars and light flares flashed before him, and B'jin squinted slightly in response, presumably from the change in lighting. How long had S'kef kept him? Darkness was truly creeping across the grounds, night setting in, there really were stars beginning to twinkle above, but all the greenrider could see were those before him.
Ayyonth! Larrikith's voice was a croon of loving affection as the blue contacted her, the little green near clinging to her young mate as an active mental connection was established. I -- what could she say? Nothing had gone right, and it was her fault. She was hurt, B'jin was hurt, she would guess Veeth was hurt - emotionally, or physically, possibly both - and R'nd was hurt. The single word was smothered in guilt. Sorry... It was a meek whisper, and Larrikith curled in tighter around herself.
B'jin managed to make it to the Bathing houses without being interrupted, strode down the hall with no more than an understanding look from another greenrider (another victim of S'kef? B'jin's stomach churned) and slipped into the first available room. He flung the door shut, and than slid down against it, his head was pounding, his stomach was churning. Oh, fuck! B'jin scrambled across the room to the bucket, the dry heaves eliciting choked cries of pain as the forced action attacked his damaged ribs. Tears toppled down B'jin's cheeks; he had an amazing tolerance for pain, but spewing on an empty stomach was painful enough, adding in damaged ribs was a recipe for disaster all by itself. He clung to the bucket as his gaze blacked out once more.
B'jin... It was a whimper, audible to Talian, to R'nd, and to Ayyonth. She didn't know who to send to her rider; he wouldn't want either of them, but she knew he needed them both. He'll drown! Sudden terror ripped through Larrikith's links as she stood up, eyes spinning with her terror. Her human's mind was a fuzzy field of emotions and nothingness, the result of his concussion that kept her from communicating properly with him, or hearing his full intent in response. She didn't know why she was suddenly afraid the man would drown; perhaps a fear picked up by Talian, or perhaps a buried worry of B'jin's.
The greenrider had pushed the bucket away, when the painful spasms had finally stopped, and clawed his way to his feet, leaning heavily, bodily, against the wall as he shackled out of his clothing and stumbled over to the bathtub. He need a bath, a hot bath, some way to scrub the feel of S'kef from his flesh; some way to try and rinse the responsibility for his monstrosity from himself. B'jin knew it would be futile, even as he scrambled into the bath, his sight useless, and sunk into the water. It was hot, burning hot, and B'jin's lips pulled back in a sneer, bursting the tentative clotting on his lower lip where he had bitten it and making it bleed once more.
"Fuck!"
Fuck his life, and fuck the day he'd ever crossed paths with S'kef! Clenching his teeth, B'jin allowed himself to sink under the surface of the water. His intent to come back up was destroyed as his eyes rolled, and he lost the fight against consciousness. Larrikith gave a shriek of fear, even as R'nd finally burst through the correct door.
