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Post by Ralin O'Faerlun on Aug 27, 2011 4:01:31 GMT -5
[[Set a day after the battle and BW meeting.]]
Seven in the morning. He'd slept all night, only to be awakened by a nightmare. Something about dying, masks circling him, and his brother fading into the distance. Theo. For the gazillionth time Ralin wondered where the man had vanished to. Fear twisted his gut, fear for his brother in this war. All Ralin wanted to do was find him, make sure he was all right.
Shaking free of those thoughts, Ralin rolled over in his bed. Or tried to. Moving was a huge effort and with every breath pain throbbed throughout his whole torso. He opened his eyes and instead of seeing Quidditch posters of England, Wales, and the Cannons plastered on the wall, he was greeted by stark white and grey.
Disorientation set in, but soon he remembered. Mosrael taking Max. A knife. Reckony's desperate voice cutting through the waves of pain. Ralin trembled and looked down at his chest. It was swathed in bandages, as well as gashes on his leg and arm.
Essentially, he felt like crap. Like he'd wrestled with a manticore and lost. But he was alive, and Mosrael had something coming to her.
Ralin had been awake several times since they took him to St. Mungos, but every time on waking he felt confused and foggy. Last night he'd tried to get up and walk out of the hospital, protesting to the nurses that he needed to get back in the fight. He'd made it to the door of his room before his legs gave out.
Leaning back, Ralin gritted his teeth and muttered under his breath. He hated hospitals.
Just then the door started to open and Ralin feigned sleep. He didn't want to talk to the blasted tyrant mediwizards.
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Post by Reina Whitlam-Weiss on Aug 27, 2011 6:47:28 GMT -5
"Now then, Miss Whitlam... lift your arms, if you would?"
Reina complied. She barely needed to think about it anymore. If another accident happened to strike her blind, dumb and deaf, she would still be able to find her way to St. Mungos from the Leaky Cauldron, still be able to lift her arms on command, still be able to answer every question and fill out every form, because the ritual never varied. The same check-ups, the same cold wand-tips running over even colder skin. Her Healer always chewed on the same patch of dried skin on his lower lip, sucked on his teeth, blew rotten-egg sighs through his walrus moustache and-
"Miss Whitlam... have you felt anything at all in your legs or lower back during the past six months? Any twinges, tingles, pins-and-needles...?"
"No."
- all according to the script. If anything had changed, it was only in the way he asked her that inevitable question. At least during the first few visits he had sounded somewhat hopeful. Like he still believed that magic could cure anything.
"Now, Miss Whitlam..."
Reina folded her hands in her lap, focusing her gaze on a point just above the man's head. It was probably the least boring patch of grey in all the grey painted throughout the hospital: it was covered in a fine stippling of bubbles left over from some long-forgotten spell. Some of them were still popping.
"... we have to discuss your next appointment-"
"Have you added any new books to the hospital library since I was last here?"
The Healer, whose name was Tiberius, sighed and resisted the urge to massage his temples. Attending to Miss Whitlam-Weiss always gave him a headache.
"Not that I am aware of. Now, if we could-"
"I know when my next appointment is. Exactly thirty days from now, same time, same room, same routine." Her emerald eyes dropped from the wall, dumping all of their contempt directly onto Tiberius's trembling moustache. "Might I leave? I still have some work left to do before the school year starts, and I don't want to waste my study time talking to a man who believes that he is in any way helping me." Reina tapped her nails together impatiently. Tiberius sagged into the plush brown chair behind his desk and, with a flick of his wand, sent a hastily scrawled memo sailing out the door. A pink-clad nurse ducked in almost immediately. The hospital staff knew the routine almost as well as Reina did.
"Unfortunately, no. Not yet. We might have to run a few more tests, depending on the results of your first batch: you'll have to wait in the Tea Room until they're done." Tiberius tried to smile: under those cold eyes it came out as more of a grimace. "We shouldn't be more than an hour at most-"
"Healer Tiberius, sir?" The nurse scurried over to whisper Tiberius's ear, unaware that Reina could still hear every word. "... we can't put her in the library, sir. The attendant threatened to resign after the last time she lectured him about never having any new books."
"What about the Tea Room?"
"Too noisy."
Tiberius was too busy pulling out chunks of his moustache to notice Reina's tiny smile.
"Then put her in a ward somewhere!" He hissed. "Somewhere quiet, where no-one will disturb her or... Merlin's Beard... find her until we've finished and we can get her out of here. A private ward, or a janitor's cell: anywhere, just keep her out of the way!"
---
"Here we are, Miss Reina... we'll pop you in here with Mister O'Faerlun. Won't that be nice?"
I'm fourteen, not four... please, shut up and leave.
Ralin's door slowly slid open. The nurse peeked in, her face frozen in that medical smile beloved of doctors (and Healers) everywhere.
"Mister O'Faerlun- oh..."
The mound of blankets that was Ralin O'Faerlun rose and fell in an easy, sleepy rhythm. The Nurse felt some of the tension in her gut ease. Perfect. An injured sleeper, who probably wouldn't wake up or ask too many questions...
"Are you certain you should be putting me in here? If he's that badly injured, we should let him sleep."
"You'll just have to be quiet." whispered the Nurse briskly. She wheeled Reina inside, settling her against the far wall before the little girl could protest. "Now, sit tight and don't run off. We'll be done soon, and then we can come back and get you. Bye bye!" The door slid shut.
"...don't run off!"
Trembling angrily, Reina dipped her hand into the book-bag hanging from the side of her chair. The tome was large and unwieldy, but the girl handled it with practiced ease, holding it open in her lap with a single hand while the other waited, ready to turn the page. The title could be easily read in the harsh hospital light.
The Masquerade: a History of Masks and Magic.
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Post by Ralin O'Faerlun on Aug 27, 2011 20:35:02 GMT -5
"Masks." A voice croaked from the bed. Ralin's green eyes were open and staring straight at her. "Too much going on with masks lately." He wondered why the nurses had brought her in here; taking in the thin girl's entire frame, wheelchair included.
Struggling to sit up against the pillows, Ralin's face paled under his freckles from the pain of the effort, but finally he was sitting so he could face her more directly. His red hair stuck out in all directions.
"So, th' nurses ditched ya in here?" The color returned to his cheeks, making his smile open and warm. "Guess they figure I won't be much trouble. So, what're you in for?" He winked, glad at last to have company. Breathing hurt, but he found that if he took careful deep breaths it helped a bit. The nurses had been able to figure out spells to speed the healing process, even though due to the knife's hex they couldn't just wave their wands and stitch him up. Oh well, at least he'd have a wicked scar to show for it.
Truth be told, Ralin felt quite insecure in his current situation. He was weak, immobile, and couldn't do squat if Mosrael's minions decided to finish the job. With a pang he remembered that his wand was broken too. Maybe Theo could help him out there.
"Er...do you happen to have a wand..." He smiled sheepishly. "I need t'send a message real quick. Honest, I won't ruin it or anything. Just need to ask my brother for a favor."
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Post by Reina Whitlam-Weiss on Aug 30, 2011 23:26:30 GMT -5
"I don't think it's any business of yours. If you don't agree with my choice of reading material, then you could always go back to sleep. It would probably be more pleasant for the both of us." Reina didn't even bother looking up from her book, dismissing the broken heap of bandages with the flip of a page. Had he been faking, or had the Nurse woken him up? Reina sighed to herself. Either way, so long as he took her hint and stayed quiet, then her stay wouldn't be too painful, even if he was awake-
Her stomach slowly clenched as she heard the unmistakable sound of rustling sheets. No, don't sit up, don't sit up, don't...
"So, th' nurses ditched ya in here? Guess they figure I won't be much trouble. So, what're you in for?"
He was actually smiling at her! Reina's glare could have frozen butterbeer.
"Peace and quiet, believe it or not."
No, he was still smiling. Reina stared in horrified fascination. Had someone placed the idiot under a permanent Confundus Curse? Or was he simply thick?
"Er...do you happen to have a wand? I need t'send a message real quick. Honest, I won't ruin it or anything. Just need to ask my brother for a favor."
You couldn't ruin my wand if you tried, addlebrain.
Reina opened her mouth, ready to shut him up with a truly caustic remark, but hesitated, frowning. She did have her wand in her pocket: she never went anywhere without it, especially on appointment days. The wand's warmth was a godsend in the chilly hospital corridors. And all he wanted to do was send a message to his brother...
The wand flicked over the top of the tome before Reina could change her mind, landing neatly in Ralin's lap.
"... fine. Use it, then leave me alone. I'm not in the mood to be interrogated."
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Post by Ralin O'Faerlun on Aug 31, 2011 4:39:15 GMT -5
Ralin tried to neatly field the wand, and failed miserably as his kitten-weak hand moved with the reflexes of molasses. Oh well, it was the effort that counted. For a moment he'd wondered if the girl was going to answer his request at all, but then she seemed to reconsider. Her glares were met with Ralin's cheery, devil-may-care smile. While some people would quail under such a frosty gaze or retreat into uneasy silence, Ralin's answer to someone's cold shoulder was to annoy the heck out of them with his sunny attitude. Either they were truly snobby and uncaring at heart, in which case Ralin would have a merry time with irritating them, or they were warm under all that ice and snow. Then he wouldn't stop until he could dig out that ember and help it to glow.
He still wasn't certain which type the girl was, but he was bored and frustrated, unable to be out there helping his friends track down that bloody masked witch.
Using the wand, Ralin first pointed at the window and muttered, "Accio Spud." Then he proceeded to conjure a slip of parchment and a quill, writing down a short message.
Theo, can you send me my spare wand. Broke mine. Hope you're well. Luv, Ralin. Then he tossed the wand back at the girl.
"Thanks lass, appreciate it. Say, I know peace and quiet. We've met a couple times. Normally we don't get along though."
He scrutinized the girl, emerald eyes glancing up and down critically. "Well, since we're stuck here, I'm gonna guess yer goin' to Hogwarts. Let's see....Slytherin? I'm a Gryff meself. Well, was. Graduated a couple years back. But actually I'm gonna be Flight Instructor at th' school this year, fillin' in for my brother. Actually takin' over for him. Dunno why, he just POOFED and vanished. Oh!" Ralin's freckled face blushed.
"Listen t'me ramble! Me name's Ralin, by th' way. What's yours?" First tactic, babble until the person either blew a gasket or gave up and decided to answer.
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Post by Reina Whitlam-Weiss on Aug 31, 2011 5:27:12 GMT -5
Silence greeted Ralin's chirpy questioning, broken only by the faint creaking of leather. Reina barely acknowledged the protests of the book pinioned between her nails: all of her attention was on the slowly-growing pit in her stomach.
He wasn't going to shut up. For as long as she was here, he would never shut up. And it wasn't as if she could just wheel herself out of the room or (worse yet,) Silence him: the freckle-encrusted fuddlewit had to be a teacher! She couldn't cow him, mock him or belittle him (cursing him was definitely out of the question). She only had one option left.
The Wheelchair Witch shut The Masquerade with a snap, hoping that the crack of the leather had hidden her snarl of irritation.
She would have to resort to... small talk. Little answers, as polite as possible. Hopefully the numbskull (Ralin, was it?) would do most of the talking. It would be too much to hope that he would lose his voice in the process-
Wait.
The girl's arms trembled slightly. What did he say that he taught? Flight Instructor? Reina bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, fighting to keep her expression as calm and contemptuous as she could make it. She wouldn't talk to him: no, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. The miserable Fuddlewit would 'ramble on' about the beauties of the sky, of how glad he was to be replacing his precious brother, about the new brooms that Hogwarts was ordering in for the Quidditch team this year. Deep in her gut, the pit tied itself into a knot, dripping with a venom that rose to burn, just for a moment, in the spasm of emotion that flared across her lips.
The girl turned her face away.
"... Reina."
No more than that. You're not entitled to get any more than that.
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Post by Ralin O'Faerlun on Aug 31, 2011 5:42:19 GMT -5
Ralin didn't miss much. And he saw in the girl's face and eyes the deep pain poisoned by loathing that his words had triggered. He clamped down on the urge to keep chattering. Something had changed in the air, it was something he was aware of. Of course, he was such a spud. He didn't mind she was in a wheelchair, it didn't make her spirit any shorter than he (and Ralin was an expert on being vertically challenged). Did she think he was so callous as to not notice? Maybe he'd been too flippant. But would he win her over with honey or lemons?
He could be snarky back. Ralin was good at that. But seeing her pain surface for just a moment, his heart went out to the lass. Mischief may be his middle name, but Ralin had a soft heart for others. He imagined what it would be without the sky for a brief moment, and felt cold at the notion. What was it like for her? What would it be like if she could move freely again, and have the sky, the wind, the freedom of flight as her companions? Right then and there Ralin knew what he had to do.
He would bring her the sky.
The tow-headed young man felt excitement at the challenge and the promise it held. Could he figure out a way? Definitely. But first he had to reach her.
"Hey," he said quietly, "sorry. I can be chatty sometimes. Quidditch and flying are my favorite things. You know, Reina..." he paused, then took the plunge, putting all of his conviction into the next words. Would she believe him? Or think that he was teasing her? Well, Ralin was well known for biting off more than he could chew, looking before leaping and all that. But hey, it was fun until he hit the ground.
"You can fly too, you know."
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Post by Reina Whitlam-Weiss on Aug 31, 2011 10:13:00 GMT -5
Reina stared at Ralin for a few moments, her expression unreadable. She slipped the tortured tome back into her book-bag before folding her hands in her lap, one over the other, as dainty as a cat.
"How?" She said, gazing at him steadily. "How dare you say something like that to me?
"You asked me why I was in here. You can see it for yourself, but because you obviously seem to need it laid bare for you, I'll gladly make things a little clearer." Drawing her wand from her pocket, she tapped the point delicately against both knees, hidden under a faded dress that matched the fraying composure reflecting in her shivering shoulders. "I am paralysed from the waist down, Professor Fuddlewit. I can't move my little toe, let alone walk... or sit on a broomstick." Her eyes hardened. "I can't leave this chair without the help of magic. Wherever it goes, I go. "Not only that..." Reina brushed her fingers along the armrest of her chair. "... but the Amaranth Wheelchair weighs a fair amount. It takes most of my strength just to wheel myself around. Place it on a broom, the broom would break. I think even a Thestral would have trouble, from what I've read. And now you have the gall to tell me that I could fly? Should I sign up for flying lessons with the first years? Perhaps you could strap me onto a broom and see which way it toppled: Merlin's eyes, it has to fall 'up' at least one time out of a hundred, right?"
Reina bit her lip, choking on a mouthful of bile. One sentence, one stupid little sentence, and she was crumbling around the edges. How pathetic. But she couldn't stop it now. Something had cracked: it was either spit her anger out or drown in it.
"You're just like the Healers. They're always telling me that there's hope. That one day I might get a little bit of feeling back. Now you've gone one step further and told me that I can fly again one day.
"Tell me something, Professor: is this how you treat all your students? Or is torturing a stranger somehow easier?"
Silence. Awful, gut-crushing silence. Reina bowed her head, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face. For all her hateful words, she had lied. He wasn't completely like the Healers. At least his statement had been kind. And that had somehow made it worse.
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Post by Ralin O'Faerlun on Aug 31, 2011 15:05:59 GMT -5
Ralin winced inwardly. What was he doing? Shouldn't he be making small talk, or letting her read in silence or something like that? Instead he was poking at her biggest problem and trying to make her life better. But wasn't that a good reason? Yet he was a stranger to her, some guy with a knife wound barely able to sit up in his starched hospital bed. She was more mobile than him at the moment.
But Ralin didn't wither under her venomous glare. Instead he gazed steadily back, unwilling to let her push him away. He was more stubborn than her, he wagered. He supposed he wanted to do this because already ideas were chattering away in his brain; he could almost hear the hammers and saws as his thoughts began to construct possibilities.
"Look...I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to come across that way. Only...I'm kind of an inventive wizard, made lots of trouble in Hogwarts," Ralin said softly, apologetically. "And yeah, I realized you were in here for that, but I didn't want you t'think that's all I saw about ye. Sure, and I love flyin', I'm an expert, and when I saw ye, my mind started workin' on ideas." He shrugged, then winced at the throbbing pain it stirred up.
He wasn't sure if he'd already stuck his foot far enough down his throat, but oh well. He had nothing better to do than to make a fool of himself. "And if ye call me Professor again, I'm gonna call ye 'Young Missy'." Ralin retorted, showing some of his spunk again.
"I was just wonderin'...if yer paralyzed and stuck in that ol' chair, I'll bet ye've imagined what it'd be like to fly instead of wheelin' around in that all th' time. Er, I'm statin' the obvious I guess." He sighed gustily. "Hah I'm just diggin' my hole deeper, ain't I? Should've brought a shovel."
Just then a small feathered object shot into the room, flying backwards as if it were being pulled by an invisible hand. Hooting angrily, the owl struggled to resist the pull but failed, glaring at Ralin until the Accio spell deposited him in Ralin's hand.
"Oh hey Spud, nice of ya to drop in! Yow!" Spud nipped his finger and then zoomed around the room like a giant feathered bumblebee. He spotted the girl and his hoots turned into soft churring sounds as he landed right in her lap, his expression demanding that she pet him.
"Er Spud, leave her alone, I don't know if she likes owls..." Ralin smacked his face with his palm as the owl just churred even louder, puffing out his feathers to make him even bigger, like the size of a grapefruit.
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Post by Reina Whitlam-Weiss on Sept 3, 2011 23:23:51 GMT -5
"... I don't mind."
Reina barely heard Ralin's protests: frankly, she no longer cared. All of her attention was focused on the tiny ball of feathers now cupped in her lap, pinprick talons digging into her thighs as he ordered her to stroke him. She complied without thinking, her slender fingers smoothing Spud's rumpled plumage, giving him the occassional scratch just in case he had an itchy spot that needed tending to. Animals... all they ever wanted was a little bit of attention, or food, or love. So wonderfully, beautifully simple.
"I have an owl too, you know." She murmured, half to herself, half to the fluffball Spud. "She's much bigger then you, though... now that I'd think about it, she's probably big enough to be your mummy. She's very sweet. And she flies terribly well. But she can be so lazy!" Reina giggled, completely oblivious to the delighted roses spreading across her cheeks, the sparkles in her emerald eyes. "Once, mother tried to use her to fly a letter to one of her friends, just over in the next village. It shouldn't have taken Lis any more than an hour, but soon it was dark, and she still hadn't come home. Jeanne, that's my sister, and I went out to look for her the next day, and we found her tucked up in a hollow tree halfway down the road, sound asleep with the letter still tied to her claw!" She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "... I guess she liked the idea of stuffing herself with mouse and dozing much more then she did running my mother's stuffy errands."
They sat silently for a moment, girl and owl, she smiling as she stroked him like a feathered cat, wincing occassionally as Spud shifted his weight onto one talon or another.
"... you almost dug yourself a grave, Professor." She eventually whispered, stressing Ralin's title with an almost inaudible laugh, "But you should be happy that you have such an intelligent owl to pull you out again." She glanced up at him. "I accept your apology. You were just trying to be kind. Not many people do that." She pushed the owl gently from her lap, reaching once more for her book. "But you are wasting your time. Don't be an idiot."
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Post by Ralin O'Faerlun on Sept 4, 2011 1:22:10 GMT -5
Spud zoomed around Reina's head happily like a fluffy halo, and then flew over to finally check on Ralin. Seeing his condition, the wee owl hooted in alarm and proceeded to fly all around Ralin, much like a concerned mother looking him over for any other bumps and bruises. Then, satisfied his human was mostly intact, Spud nestled against his neck. Ralin smiled, his pale, drawn face lighting up a bit at the attention.
"Took ye long enough, wee one. Thanks for askin'."
He arched an eyebrow at the girl, although she couldn't see it with her head bent over the book. "Funny, 'little miss'," he teased back. "But I'm known for bein' an idiot sometimes. Guess that's one thing that makes me charmin'."
Just then a nurse came in to change Ralin's bandages. He bit down hard on his tongue at the pain from her ministrations as she rubbed a salve into the wound and rebound it, as well as changing the linens on his arm and leg. Feeling suddenly ashamed of his weakness, and the reminders of his failure to protect Max, Ralin wished he could draw a curtain between him and Reina so she couldn't see. All he could do was grit his teeth and pretend she wasn't there.
"All right Mr. O'Faerlun, that's you done. Is this girl bothering you?"
Ralin let out the breath he'd been holding, and managed a wink. "She's been pestering me nonstop. Look at her, all full of questions and chatter."
The nurse looked at the girl with her nose buried in the large tome and shook her head, shooting Ralin a stern look. "Maybe I should ask if you're bothering her, young man. Miss, let one of the orderlies know if you'd like to be moved to a different room."
Then she left the room, leaving them alone again, lost in their own personal silences. Ralin was still thinking about ideas for making a broomstick that would support her lack of lower body control. Suddenly remembering the note for Theo, Ralin gave Spud the letter.
"No stopping over at Reck's place, he always spoils you. Find Theo for me, little mate!" Spud brushed Reina's cheek with a wing and then shot out the window.
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Post by Reina Whitlam-Weiss on Sept 4, 2011 1:58:26 GMT -5
How interesting...
Reina hadn't been able to help herself. As familiar as she was with the acute humiliation of being examined, she couldn't help but peep over the top of her tome, searching for a hint as to what was hidden beneath the bandages. Most of the time all she could see was the carefully positioned bulk of the nurse, but there was a moment when she leant over to rub some salve into the-
Bite? Burn?
Gash.
Gash?
Gash.
Hmmm...
Then why would he need bandages? Reina frowned, half-dazed as images and paragraphs from hundreds of medical textbooks flashed in front of her mind's eye: there was nothing else to read in a hospital, and for once she was glad for it. A bite would make sense... it stood to reason that a magical poison might resist a magical healing. And burns were difficult to treat, even for the best of Healers: salves, pastes, spells and bandages were a must for the more serious ones. But just a cut? Any Healer worth her robes would be able to heal a cut with a stroke of her wand. And the look on his face as the nurse had changed his bandages...
Unknowingly, Ralin had been correct. A myriad questions seethed behind Reina's lips, waiting for their moment.
She waited until the door had closed behind Ralin's nurse, seeing her on her way with a polite nod. Then she moved. Her hands brushed against her wheels, sending her coasting across the floor to nudge up against Ralin's bedside.
"Your wound... something like that shouldn't take so long to heal, especially here." She leant back in her chair, folding her hands daintily, one over the other, to cover a moment of hesitation. Perhaps she had no right to ask, but... surprisingly, Reina discovered a few motes of worry, prickling at her stomach. She immediately stamped on them: the least she could do was hide them from him.
Besides, if she didn't ask, she'd never know.
"... why would you need bandages?"
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Post by Ralin O'Faerlun on Sept 4, 2011 2:22:47 GMT -5
Ralin's normally chatty and outgoing self was replaced by a shy, uncertain young man who eyed Reina warily. Embarrassed. Was she just morbidly curious, maybe all her time spent in Mungo's over the years, as he assumed due to her condition, had given her a curiosity in the healing arts. Or maybe...was it possible she was actually concerned?
The Irish lad sighed. He'd battered her with questions, the least he could do was answer hers. "I...was in a battle." Green eyes met her own, now that she was closer, he could see her better. Moss eyes that were older in many ways. He'd aged a lot in the past few days, and it showed.
"I had to...protect someone." His voice quavered as the guilt twisted his gut. Max. "The baddies beat me up, and she hit me with sectumsempra spells. Y'know, those are hard to mend fast." Was he telling her too much? Part of him wanted to spill the entire tale; to vent to someone, anyone, his anguish at losing the fight, losing Max. Failing Curse, his close friend. The fear the memory brought on, of being battered and bloodied by the enemy. And then...dying. Where had Theo been? Was he already... No. Ralin had to stem the tide of those thoughts. He had to be strong still.
"Then one of them stabbed me, here." He pointed to his chest. "It was a hexed blade, anti-magic. I guess I was dying. Stuff like that, even magic can't stitch up in a jiff. Sorry..." he gave her a wan smile. "But y'did ask, 'little missy'." His attempt at teasing her again was to try and lift the mood. What would she think of him now? If she wasn't already wary of the strange young man she'd been stuck with in this room, maybe she was now.
"But I won't be here long," he said stubbornly. "We're at war, y'know, and I'm not doin' much good sleepin' the days away."
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Post by Reina Whitlam-Weiss on Sept 4, 2011 2:41:28 GMT -5
"I told you not to be an idiot. You'll be in here for as long as you need to be." Reina stared down her nose at the stubborn Irishman, summoning up the most contemptuous look she could manage. "Even if you are in some sort of... war... the worst thing you could do would be to struggle out of here before you've had a chance to heal. What will you do if your wound opens up again? Probably limp right into another knife. And then what good will you be to that person you promised to protect?"
Unbreakable means Unbreakable, little sister.
No, no, shut up, stop thinking about her.
"You'll be a hindrance, a dead weight, a stupid, festering punching bag that won't be able to keep his promise no matter how hard he tries." Once again, the words tumbled out before she could stop them, leaning her forward, hissing in his ear, cold, caustic. "You almost died? Then take advantage of it. Be dead for a while."
Don't sit there next to me promising that you can protect me, you bitch, you BITCH.
"You really are a fuddlewit. In more ways then one."
Sighing, she pulled away, her anger vanishing as quickly as it had arrived. Think of something to say, Reina, anything. Before you start thinking about her, before you start feeling ashamed about verbally scalding a sick man in his own sickbed.
"What happened to the person you were supposed to protect?" She asked, not looking at him. Her nails clicked against each other, back and forth, nervous, guilty, shameful.
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Post by Ralin O'Faerlun on Sept 4, 2011 2:55:42 GMT -5
Her words were like daggers; accusing, harsh and cold. They struck him and found his own fears and shame, the feelings he'd been fighting. Her voice rose and her words roiled out like a storm, lashing out at him. Ralin was about to cut her off, anger sparking in his eyes, when she suddenly seemed to deflate and retreat. Was she sorry? Had she really meant everything?
Because what she said was true. He was dead weight. Ralin couldn't even protect a child, let alone keep his family of friends together. He couldn't find Theo, couldn't watch his brother's back. Ralin was haunted by the ghosts of his failures; they hovered 'round his heart like the girl's words, spitting derision at him.
Weakling.
Coward.
You promised...
"I did everything I could!" The words burst out of Ralin, laced with pain and anger. Anger at this girl, sitting prim in her chair, who had no idea the horrors of the battle he'd been in. Judging him. Anger at Mosrael, who took everything and laughed at them. Anger at himself.
"You have no idea, do you?!" Ralin's green eyes were bright with frustration. "What it's like t'face evil itself. She took him, and watched me die! I tried but I couldn't get up! And Max had to watch everything too. Max Kameren, just a little boy, my friend's child. And I couldn't stop her from taking him away. Curse must be furious at me..."
The young man realized she was probably confused with his venting. How could she know what was going on?
"Mosrael...that bloody witch is gonna pay. Haven't ya heard o' the new Dark Lady that started th' war?" Ralin's anger devolved into a simmer, he realized he'd been clutching the bedsheets with white-knuckled hands.
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