27.Jan.14, 03:46 AM
R’nya waited, a quiet, gentle presence beside the grieving woman; waited for her to do something, to say something. He was not sure what he was expecting... tears, perhaps, or a raging tantrum of emotional grief? Something, someway for Peorray to express all the things she must surely be feeling. But, perhaps that would come later, shock was always a heavily dealt hand, and R’nya could tell by the blank expression on the girl’s face that shock was definitely the most strongly felt emotion.
Her simple, broken statement was both incredibly Peorray and completely wrong for the situation as a whole. R’nya sighed softly, and he gave a gentle squeeze as he shifted his weight just a little, glad the girl had turned herself away from the scene, if only a little. “No one does,” he said gently, his voice a low murmur as he watched her face quietly. The lack of Peorray being anything but Peorray made it difficult for R’nya to dictate how to act himself. Screaming, crying, hitting, and tantrums were things R’nya could more easily deal with; the lost shock was less forthright in the correct way to be handled.
He will need to be taken between, Xyreith spoke gently to R’nya, the bronze looking up from where he was sitting quietly and calmly beside Wydrith. The bronzerider looked down towards the muddy, broken little boy and his eyebrows furrowed. He knew he’d have to be the one to drop the little boy; Peorray couldn’t do it on Wydrith and M’din would be far too worked up to concentrate on something like that; it would have to be he… but how could he drop that poor boy between, covered in mud and muck and grime?
Stepping gently away from Peorray, R’nya dropped to one knee and picked up the tiny, broken child with gentle hands, brushing mud and muck tangled hair off his face as he stood up. The disaster would not allow them the ability to wash the boy, or to dress him in his best, but R’nya turned to face Peorray quietly, his face pale and drawn as he met her eyes. “Do you have a blanket we can wrap him in, Peorray?” His voice was low pitched, and the girl’s name spoken to bring her out of her own thoughts, lest she wind up stuck in them forever; but mostly, R’nya was sure a task was something Peorray needed, no matter how trivial.
Her simple, broken statement was both incredibly Peorray and completely wrong for the situation as a whole. R’nya sighed softly, and he gave a gentle squeeze as he shifted his weight just a little, glad the girl had turned herself away from the scene, if only a little. “No one does,” he said gently, his voice a low murmur as he watched her face quietly. The lack of Peorray being anything but Peorray made it difficult for R’nya to dictate how to act himself. Screaming, crying, hitting, and tantrums were things R’nya could more easily deal with; the lost shock was less forthright in the correct way to be handled.
Stepping gently away from Peorray, R’nya dropped to one knee and picked up the tiny, broken child with gentle hands, brushing mud and muck tangled hair off his face as he stood up. The disaster would not allow them the ability to wash the boy, or to dress him in his best, but R’nya turned to face Peorray quietly, his face pale and drawn as he met her eyes. “Do you have a blanket we can wrap him in, Peorray?” His voice was low pitched, and the girl’s name spoken to bring her out of her own thoughts, lest she wind up stuck in them forever; but mostly, R’nya was sure a task was something Peorray needed, no matter how trivial.