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!
17.Jan.20, 10:30 AM
B’jin flinched at R’nd’s words, cringing away from the bluerider as if he had hit him, but when he looked up at R’nd, B’jin’s eyes were sorrowful and his face was etched with shame. It wasn’t at his reaction, but rather that R’nd had thought something so terrible. The bluerider’s words made sense, and B’jin could even acknowledge that they did, but he didn’t have to like it. Not the bit about beating him, but about how it wouldn’t be any better to guilt him to come home than to drag him. A lifetime of being chased; as a desired Harper, and then as a desired greenrider, and then as a greenrider. Because he was a greenrider. B’jin expected it in a way he hadn’t even realised until that moment. He blinked at R’nd slowly, mind churning.
R’nd’s declaration had B’jin’s eyes softening, and he shifted – without breaking the gentle contact of holding hands – and shifted, pressing himself against R’nd’s side again, sitting so they were facing one another, the side of B’jin’s leg against R’nd’s. He wove their fingers together, still thinking over everything. “I’m going to try,” he said softly, looking up from their entwined fingers to frown at R’nd, searching his lover’s grey eyes. “I want to be better, than what they made me.” Sure, he’d always been spoiled and arrogant, but he hadn’t always been… everything else. Decades of N’mall and S’kef and however many of their cruel minions they’d let pick on him whenever they felt the need. He hadn’t even gotten relief during the plague, with N’mall bearing down on him, his brown bullying Larrikith. Was he too old to change so many decades of trained behaviour?
Reaching out with his empty hand, B’jin touched R’nd gently on the jawline, tracing along his jaw, brushing his fingers through some of R’nd’s delightfully if only slightly bed tossed hair. He gripped the side of R’nd’s face gently, brushing his thumb along the bluerider’s cheekbone. “Will you help me?” B’jin asked, slightly wary, before giving a wry grimace. “Not by, um, hurting me,” he added, nose scrunching up and shame coursing over his face again. The relief and agony that D’hys had brought him in his stint staying with that bluerider had been… euphoric. But only until he was kicked out the door. Once his brain had cleared of the fog and memories, and he’d staggered to the baths and cleaned himself up, B’jin had been overcome with such sickening shame. He hadn’t been able to hide the bruises from R’nd; he hadn’t tried, but nor had he flaunted them. They hadn’t spoken about it, but as much because B’jin couldn’t read the expression on his mate’s face as because he was drowning in his own horror and disgust. He let his hand lower gently back to his lap.
“When I was with N’mall,” he said softly, voice blank and emotionless, “I had to be… pre-emptive.” He shook his head slightly. “I had a slow learning curve,” he admitted, “I was very arrogant, and he was very effective at isolating me, even from Larrikith – he fed my hatred of her for ruining my life. Especially when it was he that did a lot of such.” He was staring at their hands as he spoke, the words tumbling free without stumbling. “I didn’t realise it then. Not for so long. Not until he hit Indamor when the children were staying with me. And N’mor just… took it.” He looked up at R’nd, heartbreak in his eyes, “like he’d seen me do.” B’jin pursed his lips, to keep them from trembling, and dropped his gaze back to their hands. “I didn’t care what he did to me, or anyone else. Fighting back was never a good move, but a child?” Nostrils flared, B’jin snorted in anger; it still made him seethe that anyone could pick on an innocent child.
That anger was what fuelled him kicking N’mall out, and kept him strong enough to tell Par’a what had happened. It was she, however, that kept him strong when the anger faded, and the fear came back. Fear of the punishment he’d get. Fear of being alone. Fear of being a failure as a mate. B’jin snorted and shook his head to himself. “Had a bit of a party after Par’a convinced me I was capable of being alone again,” he looked sideways at R’nd, lips twitching slightly. “Probably slept with most of Katila, though I still felt more comfortable being beaten up than not,” he flushed and looked down again. Taking a deep breath, B’jin looked back up again, seeking out R’nd’s gaze. “You were – are – the only one who really made me feel like more than a greenrider. Or a… a punching bag. Or a quick fix.” B’jin’s fingers woven with R’nd’s gave a gentle squeeze. “The only one who wanted to bring me pleasure not radiating with the pain.”
A silence fell as B’jin took a deep breath, and sighed it out softly. He yawned, a small one, and chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, considering how to continue. It was better when he didn’t take a break; the break to think and gather his thoughts was dangerous, and left him filled with insecurities and worries and confusion. Better to just babble on without a pause and hope R’nd could digest most of it. All of it. Hopefully. “Sometimes,” he said slowly, frowning to himself as he tried to find the right words. “That’s frightening. Sometimes,” he went on, glancing up to frown at R’nd, worried, “everything he beat into me finally gets the best of me, and it bubbles up,” he held his free fist against his heart, gesturing vaguely like there were a level there, lifting all the awfulness upwards.
“I hear something, or mishear something. I see something. And he’s there, an awful whisper more clear than even Larrikith’s voice. Saying ‘see? See?’ and gloating as all those things seem to become true and I break, Rin, I can’t do it. I need it to stop, it has to stop because the voice is right and I have to get away – I need to run. So I run. I run away because you’re not like him – you won’t chase me down. You won’t beat me and tell me how right that voice is and how terrible I am. How you can do so much better, how I can’t survive without you to keep me in line, how I need to be punished. Because I’m not worthy. I’m not. I’m a stupid, stupid little greenrider who—” B’jin was trembling as he visibly wrenched himself out of the memories and the onslaught of words, and he clung tighter to R’nd’s hand, grounding himself with an anxious glance at Larrikith – but the dragon slept on, and after a few moments and a lot of deep breaths, B’jin’s trembling decreased.
“Sorry,” B’jin breathed, looking anxiously up at R’nd. “I need you to help,” B’jin said seriously, firmly, marching on though his gaze was still as insecure and fearful as ever. “Not to be like them. Or even to chase me, if you don’t want to. But to help keep their damned shadows from fucking with us anymore.” B’jin scowled, “I can’t do it alone.” Clearly. He’d been fighting those demons alone for their entire relationship, and even though he hadn’t realised it until this last fuck up, that didn’t excuse him. That didn’t make up for his past idiocy; but if R’nd could help him. If R’nd could … “I don’t even know how,” B’jin admitted. He had no idea what R’nd could do, or how he could do it. All he knew was that he needed R’nd, because R’nd was all the glorious goodness he had been convinced he could never have. And had almost unwittingly followed through on; he hated that it had taken so long for him to put the puzzle together, but maybe – maybe – it wouldn’t be too late, and they could be everything B’jin didn’t realise he was preventing them from being.
“I want to be with you. I want to be worthy to be with you.” He paused, leaning forward and gently pressing a couple of fingers against R’nd’s heart. “I want to feel worthy of you, Rin.”
R’nd’s declaration had B’jin’s eyes softening, and he shifted – without breaking the gentle contact of holding hands – and shifted, pressing himself against R’nd’s side again, sitting so they were facing one another, the side of B’jin’s leg against R’nd’s. He wove their fingers together, still thinking over everything. “I’m going to try,” he said softly, looking up from their entwined fingers to frown at R’nd, searching his lover’s grey eyes. “I want to be better, than what they made me.” Sure, he’d always been spoiled and arrogant, but he hadn’t always been… everything else. Decades of N’mall and S’kef and however many of their cruel minions they’d let pick on him whenever they felt the need. He hadn’t even gotten relief during the plague, with N’mall bearing down on him, his brown bullying Larrikith. Was he too old to change so many decades of trained behaviour?
Reaching out with his empty hand, B’jin touched R’nd gently on the jawline, tracing along his jaw, brushing his fingers through some of R’nd’s delightfully if only slightly bed tossed hair. He gripped the side of R’nd’s face gently, brushing his thumb along the bluerider’s cheekbone. “Will you help me?” B’jin asked, slightly wary, before giving a wry grimace. “Not by, um, hurting me,” he added, nose scrunching up and shame coursing over his face again. The relief and agony that D’hys had brought him in his stint staying with that bluerider had been… euphoric. But only until he was kicked out the door. Once his brain had cleared of the fog and memories, and he’d staggered to the baths and cleaned himself up, B’jin had been overcome with such sickening shame. He hadn’t been able to hide the bruises from R’nd; he hadn’t tried, but nor had he flaunted them. They hadn’t spoken about it, but as much because B’jin couldn’t read the expression on his mate’s face as because he was drowning in his own horror and disgust. He let his hand lower gently back to his lap.
“When I was with N’mall,” he said softly, voice blank and emotionless, “I had to be… pre-emptive.” He shook his head slightly. “I had a slow learning curve,” he admitted, “I was very arrogant, and he was very effective at isolating me, even from Larrikith – he fed my hatred of her for ruining my life. Especially when it was he that did a lot of such.” He was staring at their hands as he spoke, the words tumbling free without stumbling. “I didn’t realise it then. Not for so long. Not until he hit Indamor when the children were staying with me. And N’mor just… took it.” He looked up at R’nd, heartbreak in his eyes, “like he’d seen me do.” B’jin pursed his lips, to keep them from trembling, and dropped his gaze back to their hands. “I didn’t care what he did to me, or anyone else. Fighting back was never a good move, but a child?” Nostrils flared, B’jin snorted in anger; it still made him seethe that anyone could pick on an innocent child.
That anger was what fuelled him kicking N’mall out, and kept him strong enough to tell Par’a what had happened. It was she, however, that kept him strong when the anger faded, and the fear came back. Fear of the punishment he’d get. Fear of being alone. Fear of being a failure as a mate. B’jin snorted and shook his head to himself. “Had a bit of a party after Par’a convinced me I was capable of being alone again,” he looked sideways at R’nd, lips twitching slightly. “Probably slept with most of Katila, though I still felt more comfortable being beaten up than not,” he flushed and looked down again. Taking a deep breath, B’jin looked back up again, seeking out R’nd’s gaze. “You were – are – the only one who really made me feel like more than a greenrider. Or a… a punching bag. Or a quick fix.” B’jin’s fingers woven with R’nd’s gave a gentle squeeze. “The only one who wanted to bring me pleasure not radiating with the pain.”
A silence fell as B’jin took a deep breath, and sighed it out softly. He yawned, a small one, and chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, considering how to continue. It was better when he didn’t take a break; the break to think and gather his thoughts was dangerous, and left him filled with insecurities and worries and confusion. Better to just babble on without a pause and hope R’nd could digest most of it. All of it. Hopefully. “Sometimes,” he said slowly, frowning to himself as he tried to find the right words. “That’s frightening. Sometimes,” he went on, glancing up to frown at R’nd, worried, “everything he beat into me finally gets the best of me, and it bubbles up,” he held his free fist against his heart, gesturing vaguely like there were a level there, lifting all the awfulness upwards.
“I hear something, or mishear something. I see something. And he’s there, an awful whisper more clear than even Larrikith’s voice. Saying ‘see? See?’ and gloating as all those things seem to become true and I break, Rin, I can’t do it. I need it to stop, it has to stop because the voice is right and I have to get away – I need to run. So I run. I run away because you’re not like him – you won’t chase me down. You won’t beat me and tell me how right that voice is and how terrible I am. How you can do so much better, how I can’t survive without you to keep me in line, how I need to be punished. Because I’m not worthy. I’m not. I’m a stupid, stupid little greenrider who—” B’jin was trembling as he visibly wrenched himself out of the memories and the onslaught of words, and he clung tighter to R’nd’s hand, grounding himself with an anxious glance at Larrikith – but the dragon slept on, and after a few moments and a lot of deep breaths, B’jin’s trembling decreased.
“Sorry,” B’jin breathed, looking anxiously up at R’nd. “I need you to help,” B’jin said seriously, firmly, marching on though his gaze was still as insecure and fearful as ever. “Not to be like them. Or even to chase me, if you don’t want to. But to help keep their damned shadows from fucking with us anymore.” B’jin scowled, “I can’t do it alone.” Clearly. He’d been fighting those demons alone for their entire relationship, and even though he hadn’t realised it until this last fuck up, that didn’t excuse him. That didn’t make up for his past idiocy; but if R’nd could help him. If R’nd could … “I don’t even know how,” B’jin admitted. He had no idea what R’nd could do, or how he could do it. All he knew was that he needed R’nd, because R’nd was all the glorious goodness he had been convinced he could never have. And had almost unwittingly followed through on; he hated that it had taken so long for him to put the puzzle together, but maybe – maybe – it wouldn’t be too late, and they could be everything B’jin didn’t realise he was preventing them from being.
“I want to be with you. I want to be worthy to be with you.” He paused, leaning forward and gently pressing a couple of fingers against R’nd’s heart. “I want to feel worthy of you, Rin.”
