12.Apr.12, 12:32 AM
Farlint was going absolutely stir-crazy.
He had flirted with almost every single healer- including the males, to make it a full set- and he had counted every plank of wood in the ceiling above him. He'd counted the leaves on the perky little plant that one of the female Candidates had brought him as a get well present, which he hadn't been able to thank her for since he hadn't been allowed to see her. He'd counted his sharding stitches, and he'd even gotten used to the taste of Fellis. He knew what time it was by which Healers were on duty, and he knew how many steps away the small bedpan that he'd been forced to mess in at first lay from the bed.
How long had it been since the Hatching? That was what eluded him, with day in and day out, drugged, dreamless sleep and meals that came based on when he was actually hungry, not on a schedule. He missed the taste of sweet, sweet wine on his tongue, laughter in his ears, and hands that weren't the bland stroke of a bored healer. He was tired of trying to remember if he'd vomited on this healer or that one yet.
A mind pressed against his own, a familiar touch, and he heard Ilveriath's familiar voice. Eagerly, Farlint shoved up in his bed, raking fingers through his messy hair. He didn't know if they would let I'shan through or not, but he could hope, and for his 'brother' to see him looking such a mess was a downright shame. A major break in his leg was no reason for him to look slovenly. How could he be expected to get a date if he looked a mess? Maybe I'shan would help him take a real shower, and not- nah. He was coming to not mind the sponge baths. Especially that one with the talented hands. Heh. He was an incorrigible pervert, after all. Not something he could help, though he'd tried. (Not very hard.)
He could hear footsteps, unfamiliar and yet oddly so. A visitor! For him? He glanced around, shoved the cover over his mauled leg so as to hid it from view, and was waiting when the door opened to reveal a familiar, if strangely haggard, face. "I'shan!" He couldn't help the pure jubilation. "You look like shit. Sit down." he patted the bed next to his uninjured leg, grinning at his brother-figure with genuine affection. Especially when I'shan handed him the wine. Farlint's breath caught, and he glanced up at the rider. "For me? Really?" That was a nice bottle of- Benden. A lump rose in his throat, and Far peered at the seal, looking for a maker's mark. Chances were slim, really, but his da always had made the best wine. A bottle of his father's wine might make the whole leg-break worth it.
Might.
"Spill." Farlint said finally, putting aside his hunt fr the maker's mark until later. "I want to hear everything that's gone down while I've been indisposed."
He had flirted with almost every single healer- including the males, to make it a full set- and he had counted every plank of wood in the ceiling above him. He'd counted the leaves on the perky little plant that one of the female Candidates had brought him as a get well present, which he hadn't been able to thank her for since he hadn't been allowed to see her. He'd counted his sharding stitches, and he'd even gotten used to the taste of Fellis. He knew what time it was by which Healers were on duty, and he knew how many steps away the small bedpan that he'd been forced to mess in at first lay from the bed.
How long had it been since the Hatching? That was what eluded him, with day in and day out, drugged, dreamless sleep and meals that came based on when he was actually hungry, not on a schedule. He missed the taste of sweet, sweet wine on his tongue, laughter in his ears, and hands that weren't the bland stroke of a bored healer. He was tired of trying to remember if he'd vomited on this healer or that one yet.
A mind pressed against his own, a familiar touch, and he heard Ilveriath's familiar voice. Eagerly, Farlint shoved up in his bed, raking fingers through his messy hair. He didn't know if they would let I'shan through or not, but he could hope, and for his 'brother' to see him looking such a mess was a downright shame. A major break in his leg was no reason for him to look slovenly. How could he be expected to get a date if he looked a mess? Maybe I'shan would help him take a real shower, and not- nah. He was coming to not mind the sponge baths. Especially that one with the talented hands. Heh. He was an incorrigible pervert, after all. Not something he could help, though he'd tried. (Not very hard.)
He could hear footsteps, unfamiliar and yet oddly so. A visitor! For him? He glanced around, shoved the cover over his mauled leg so as to hid it from view, and was waiting when the door opened to reveal a familiar, if strangely haggard, face. "I'shan!" He couldn't help the pure jubilation. "You look like shit. Sit down." he patted the bed next to his uninjured leg, grinning at his brother-figure with genuine affection. Especially when I'shan handed him the wine. Farlint's breath caught, and he glanced up at the rider. "For me? Really?" That was a nice bottle of- Benden. A lump rose in his throat, and Far peered at the seal, looking for a maker's mark. Chances were slim, really, but his da always had made the best wine. A bottle of his father's wine might make the whole leg-break worth it.
Might.
"Spill." Farlint said finally, putting aside his hunt fr the maker's mark until later. "I want to hear everything that's gone down while I've been indisposed."