Second Pass Weyr - AU Canon Pern

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Messages - Sanderon

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Gather Square / Re: You Can't Escape [M, Anyone Welcome!]
« on: 16 Aug 2012 at 12:38 AM »
Sanderon knew he was in serious trouble. If he tried to escape or just simply disappear for a time, it did not seem to matter which, both were equally frowned upon. With clenched fists at his sides, and a clenched jaw to keep his bitter words silent, the two strong men on each side of him gripped his arms harshly. Being propelled out into the sunshine burned his eyes from having been in a darker environment. He refused to cringe though as he raised his chin in defiance.

With each forced step he was made to take, his urge to break free increased ten-fold. His heartbeat quickened and his adrenaline began to pump through his veins in preparation. In his mental vision a picture of his family as he had seen them last came to give him strength.

'With his brothers' teasing well-wishes and his father's kind words of advice echoing in his ears, Sanderon had headed out for his first solo over-night hunting trip. Along the well-worn trail towards the deep wood he had turned to look back at his humble home. In the yard were his brothers, Arkero and Sarron. Both held encouraging smiles upon their faces. His father, Sandark was behind them with a look of quiet approval. Behind his brothers and father, his mother Eronia stood in the doorway to their stone hut wearing her cooking apron over her dark green simple dress. She was lovely. Sanderon's heart had softened when he had seen her smile. He had given her a wave which she returned.'

Remembering his family during his forced march into and through the crowds did not soften his heart now. If hardened it and gave him the iron-willed stubbornness he needed at this moment. With his jaw and fists clenched and the two strong men gripping each of his arms painfully, he was led closer to the location of his punishment; His unjust torture.

Gathering all the strength he had, he yanked as hard as he could against the two burly men. Kicking up his feet, dodging side to side, bucking forward and backwards... He tried everything. Though he felt he might have come close at one point to breaking their grasp it was not to be. He was pulled forceably upon the platform. Seeing the current Weyrsecond, N'gelt, standing there holding a whip near the two posts with ropes, Sanderon turned his head and with a final growl in his throat and a feral rage in his dark eyes he spit towards N'gelt's face and tried to kick out at the man's stomach. If N'gelt could not breathe, he could not whip him, right?

To those that were gathering to watch, Sanderon paid no heed. They were all against him, he was sure. So they did not matter. Only the here and now mattered and he was fighting mad and determined to inflict as much punishment against them as he himself was about to get. With the help of a third man who had come up behind and around them, his wrists were pulled up one by one and tied tight with each of the ropes tied to the two posts there. His skin burned and so did his rage as he tried again to kick out at those that now let his arms go. Yanking against the ropes that held him fast, only caused the ropes to tighten painfully. Stopping all movement he stood there with feet wide apart, jaw clenched and his eyes defiantly glaring, and tried to catch his breath. His stance and expression now might possibly cause some to think of a feral animal; one that could not be tamed. Oh but he was so much more than that. Sanderon used to be happy. He used to be a person that was loved and respected once. But now... now he was nothing but an object of scorn. Something to be beaten into submission.

Gather Square / Re: You Can't Escape [M, Anyone Welcome!]
« on: 17 Aug 2012 at 12:49 PM »
When a few of Sanderon's blows actually landed, one would think he was very pleased, but he wasn't. He was not the sort to actually delight in the hurting of others...unlike some persons. He glared at N'gelt when the snap of the whip barely missed his leg. After his wrists were bound he kicked out again and connected with one of the brown rider's knees. Sanderon tried again but the three that had brought him up to the stage and secured him to the posts backed off out of his reach and melted into the crowd. 

Standing there with feet set wide for stability he waited for the pain to begin. But it did not come right away. Out of the murmuring of the growing crowd around him came a female's voice (Lymsleia). What she had to say whether it be true or not was not helping matters. In fact, she was only making things worse for him and maybe for herself as well. Could she not see that? Turning his head, he sought out her form and frowned. His eyes flashed a quick plea for her to shut up. He could fight his own battles. 

When Jada spoke up in defense of the Southern scum, Sanderon couldn't help but glare. He stopped listening to her and looked along the crowd. One pair of eyes caught his attention as they were looking  steadily back into his own.(Sasha) Wondering what to make of her, he noticed her very slight nod to him. What was that suppose to mean? Was she agreeing with his current thoughts that the other girl's speech was more damaging then helpful and his pain might now be worse because of it? Or was she lending him a small hint of her support for him? That was a surprising thought and one that was not completely unwelcome. He could use all the support he could get at this point.

Turning his gaze away from the crowds and onto Jada when she placed herself in front of him, he glared at her and mumbled under his breath for her ears only, "Come to see me squirm?" There was already pain in his eyes and not just because of the ropes that burned his wrists. His pain now was mostly in his heart. If he got the five lashes he felt he would be dealt, life would be very unbearable for a while to come until his lashes healed. He would not be able to disappear again until he healed.

Unbeknownst to everyone, Sanderon had put his efforts of actually going home on hold for quite some time now. His latest 'escape' attempts had not been to get to his family but to avoid getting near the clutch of eggs that were hardening upon the sands. He had also been sneaking a portion of his meals out to a secret location in preparation for the time when getting home might become a real possibility. He also desired the rare moments of freedom sneaking off there brought to him. To keep his sanity, he needed that.

So far, it had not yet been discovered what he was really up to. One of his caught 'escape' attempts was when he was heading out with another scrap of food and a small break from the Southern Scum that had torn him away from his family and left them thinking he was dead. The dragon eggs were his real motivation for having headed away this last time though. If one of them were to sense him and then choose him for life, he would never see his parents and brothers again. If he could just hold out and avoid as many hatchings and lashings as he could, maybe...just maybe an opportunity to return home might present itself in time. Let others think what they will. He was and always would be loyal to his family. The real truth behind his 'escape attempts', he would never anyone...ever.

Five lashes; That was all he would have to endure. He was sure of it. It would be horrible but he knew he would survive. When N'gelt spoke of his 'crime' and then the punishment of seven lashes, Sanderon ignored Jada in front of him, looked slowly down at his feet and closed his eyes with a clenched jaw.

The sound of N'gelt's footsteps coming closer made Sanderon lift his chin and regain his look of defiance. They would never break him! The rough texture of N'gelt's strong hand on his collar confused Sanderon for a moment before the fabric at his throat nearly choked him as his shirt was viciously torn from his back.  With eyes widening with apprehension, Sanderon pushed his fear away as best he could, as the soft breeze caressed his bare skin.

Three more lashes were pronounced making the total count ten and this is when Sanderon's control slipped. He was afraid now and it was very hard to convince himself otherwise. He wanted to be strong. He had to be strong. But with ten lashes?! How could he?

With N'gelt's footsteps now coming to a stop behind him, Sanderon closed his eyes with resignation and braced himself for the first lash. He was hoping N'gelt would get them all done quickly. 

With the first snap of the whip, a terrible groan tore forth from Sanderon's throat. He instinctively tugged strongly on his wrist restraints only to have the ropes there dig deeper. This was going to be a lot worse than he thought. Sure he had endured three lashes before but he did not remember them being this bad. His back muscles quivered terribly with the shock of it and the small trickles of first blood could be felt slowly running out of the slash that had torn his skin.

Nine more? He would never make it.


Gather Square / Re: You Can't Escape [M, Anyone Welcome!]
« on: 18 Aug 2012 at 02:52 AM »
With the agony of the first slash seeping into his very core, Sanderon tried to focus his mind away from his pain with little success. He begged silently for the next nine stripes to be given quickly but it was not to be. Lymsleia and her misplaced championing of the 'stolen' reared it's ugly head yet again. Making his, his torture, delayed and thus much worse.

It was insane. He was about to yell at her to shut up and so was completely caught off guard by the crack of the whip for the second time. It sliced even more deeply than the first. He had not had a chance to brace himself for it and his cry that resulted this time was louder and filled with his anguish. It was humiliating. It also did not help that the skin of his wrists were becoming quite raw as well when he jerked against his restraints yet again.

Sweat came onto his brow as he braced himself this time and waited again for the third. 'Please be quick.' He silently begged. He was made to wait again though and his tense back muscles screamed with sick anticipation.


There was the third strike. He did not cry out this time... Thankfully. Seven more to go and he was not only bleeding freely down his back now but his wrists were beginning to show signs of injury too. 'Please...please be quick.' These words began to be his silent and constant plea.

To Sanderon it seemed as if N'gelt was taking his lashing way too slowly and wondered if perhaps the man was reveling in the pain he was causing. "Get it done already..." Sanderon growled lowly through grinding teeth to the man behind whom he could not see.

Was N'gelt just waiting for the perfect opportunity? The point when Sanderon was unbraced and unprepared? It sure felt that way. As the fourth ripping of his bloody flesh occurred, Sanderon jerked terribly and this time his wrists did begin to bleed.

By the time the eighth one came, Sanderon's body was sweated, bloody and about to pass out from the cruel torture of his mind and flesh. He couldn't go on. He just couldn't!


With the ninth strike, Sanderon could hold back no longer. With his eyes darkening, he roared out strongly and slowly fell limp with his head resting against one of his arms. His full weight now being held by his shredded wrists. His own roar sounded more powerful than he ever thought it could. So delirious with pain was he that he did not realized right away that his own roar had been masked by Ronarth, D'ren's bronze dragon. And his eyes growing dark was the bronze's shadow above the square before he landed. He wished for the peace of unconsciousness but for some reason his mind would not let go.

When he began to hear the voice of D'ren, Sanderon did not even have the strength to be enraged. The more he heard though the more his mind grew deeply confused. D'ren was on his side? On the side of the stolen? Was this all some added cruelty on the part of the leadership? It was horrible.

When a moment of intense silence fell, he could hear someone's soft weeping. Lifting his head only by a fraction, he opened one tear-filled eye to search out who it might be, only to see that it was the man that had been directly responsible for his original capture. I'shan. What was he crying about? It couldn't be Sanderon the man was sniffling over. So what? As soon as these questions entered his mind, he let them go.

It was unimportant. Sanderon lowered his head again and just concentrated on breathing and listening to the monumental words he now heard again coming forth through D'ren's mouth.

He was actually apologizing? Had Sanderon gone mental and was now hallucinating? It didn't seem that way.

He couldn't listen to every word but he did noticed when his bloody wrists were loosened from their cutting restraints. He collapsed into who ever it was that now had his arm across their shoulders. Raising his head to take a look would take too much effort but he had a good idea of who it was that now led him mercifully away.

The tenth whip stroke never fell.

Healing Hall / 'Just Let Me Rest' [D'ren,Talian]
« on: 19 Aug 2012 at 12:48 AM »
Each step. Each breath. Even the smallest of muscle twitches, left Sanderon in pure anguish. His heart pounded, his bloody wrists and back throbbed, and yet he was being made to move. Couldn't they just leave him be? He could sink to the ground right here, curl up and just exist. But no. With his arm over D'ren's supportive shoulders, he was made to move. The weyrleader would not let him rest here, he was sure of it. To the Healing Hall they had to go.

"Please." He gasped under his breathe. His head still lowered, his tear-filled eyes shut tight, his body sweated...Sanderon kept taking one step after another...somehow.

"Please, just...let me rest." His voice did not sound like it was begging. It did not sound like it was angry either. His words were just there. Void of emotion. Had they broken his spirit? Had they finally tamed the 'beast'? Had a part of Sanderon died at the lashing? It was hard to say what was going on in his mind, he didn't even know at this point. What was clear, was his current state of pain. He just wanted it to end. He didn't care how.

What had gone on in the public square would never be forgotten. Sanderon would always remember the torture N'gelt cruelly gave. He would also remember one other thing as well. Something that he was having a hard time understanding or believing. D'ren had stepped in and 'saved' him when he had no longer been able to go on. What he thought about D'ren at this point was all a jumble. He wasn't really thinking about anything at this point. He just wanted to stop moving.

Healing Hall / Re: 'Just Let Me Rest' [D'ren,Talian]
« on: 19 Aug 2012 at 07:48 PM »
The walk to the infirmary, though not terribly far, had nearly taken Sanderon's last spark of strength. With his eyes still shut tight he felt, more than saw, the shadow of the Healing Hall come over them as D'ren led him inside. The weyrleader's encouragement fell on unthankful ears. He did not care to be encouraged right now. He just wanted to fall unconscious upon the nearest bed. Did the man truly believe that Sanderon would be fine? He hadn't been 'fine' since the day he was captured in the woods. And at this rate, he would never be 'fine' again. Now was not the time to dwell on such things. Even if he wanted to think on it, his mind was shattered and wandered in crazy directions. It did not seem to want to settle down and think clearly on anything. It never stopped fully on a single thought before racing off in another direction towards nothing except...


That was the only thing that was real. Voices did not matter. Though he heard one now. It was D'ren again. When had Sanderon stopped moving? That was odd. He was on a bed now. That was nice...or at least it should be he thought briefly. There was no difference though. Nothing had really changed. At least he didn't have to move anymore.

On his belly now, with his bloody wrists by either side of his head and his shredded back soaked in blood messing up the blankets underneath him, he listened to what D'ren had to say. Opening his eyes briefly to look upon the man sitting in a chair beside him, he suddenly realized that some sort of response was being asked for. Hoping it was the right one, Sanderon tried to remember what D'ren had asked and then mumbled in the same void tone as before, "Am I alright? ...No. How could I be?"

How could he be alright? D'ren's question made no sense. Didn't the man not see his torn and bleeding flesh? What was wrong with him.

When he heard D'ren apologize with 'I'm Sorry Kid.' A spark of anger flashed briefly through Sanderon's eyes before disappearing behind the fog of misery again. Meeting the weyrleader's gaze, he said without feeling, "Don't say you're sorry. Just... don't."

The apology was heartfelt, Sanderon was sure but it rekindled a spark of his old defiance when he heard it. I'shan had repeatedly said that he was sorry too, right before Sanderon was torn away from his family, probably leaving them thinking he was dead.

"Actions. ...Not words." Was what Sanderon mumbled now, as he closed his eyes once again. He willed his mind to let go so he could feel the sweet peace of the unconscious, but still his mind refused to release him. His tortured flesh still throbbed terribly with each beat of his heart.

Where was the healer?

Healing Hall / Re: 'Just Let Me Rest' [D'ren,Talian]
« on: 20 Aug 2012 at 08:55 PM »
With his blood seeping out of his wounds and slipping over torn flesh to drip down onto the blanket below, Sand tried to count his heartbeats and then the soft footsteps he heard coming closer to pass the time until the healer arrived. He wondered briefly who it would be.

Opening his eyes without moving anything else he hoped he would see the healer. Instead it was an attendant that had handed D'ren a glass of water. The fact that it was meant for the man and not him was irritating. Wasn't he, Sanderon, the one that was hurt? The weyrleader was just being pampered. What a...

His thoughts grew silent with confused suspicion. D'ren was giving the water to him? ....Really? What was he suppose to think about the man now? It was so much easier to hate him. But all of this 'thoughtfulness'? It was just plain confusing. He did not entirely trust it. Maybe it was tainted somehow with drugs of some kind. He desperately wanted the water though. His mouth was very dry and his throat parched. But there was only one problem. He did not want to move in order to get it.

Gritting his teeth after an internal battle where his mind called his body a whiny baby, he moved very carefully and very slowly to where he rested upon one elbow. The fire that burned at his every movement was extreme. He felt his head spin and the sweat reappear upon his brow but he did not want to pass out at this point. Let the water touch his throat first.

Managing to touch the glass, he worked it into his grip and tried to lift it so he could bring it to his mouth. A soft moan escaped and he quickly set the glass back onto the table before it had been raised half an inch. Clenching his jaw in determination, he narrowed his eyes against the offending glass and tried again. This time, he expected what the additional weight, although small, brought to his tortured back muscles. Pulling the glass toward his lips, he could see the water inside the glass visibly tremble as his hand shook with the effort.

Feeling the refreshing water cool his mouth and slide down his throat, he drank heavily and nearly emptied the glass right then and there. With a little left, he had taken his fill and reversed his efforts to return the glass to where he had gotten it from. Thankfully it wasn't nearly as heavy this time.

Letting go of the glass, he kept his hand raised and took a look at his wrist for the first time. It did not look pretty at all and it still bled though not quite as freely as before. With his iron-willed determination to stay upright fading quickly, he fell back onto the bunk, this time he was partially on his side facing D'ren with his back facing away. Having moved was not an enjoyable experience and he regretted having done so as he lay there and just tried to breathe.

When the peak of his agony was fading a bit, he looked upon D'ren and noticed his sweated, tiredness. He looked positively dreadful. Huh? Was that a hint of concern for the monster sitting beside him? No way!

Looking down at his own blood upon the sides of his chest where it had run and dripped off and the blanket, he frowned with concern. Was his back as bad off as it felt? Would he heal okay? He knew he would scar so when that question came into his brain, he dismissed it as irrelevant. At least he had concrete thoughts at this point. His pain was no less than before, maybe even greater with the swelling and the wait, but his mind was not as scattered and disconnected as before.

Perhaps that is why he knew he wasn't imagining things when he heard a dragon's voice in his head. At the same time as a bronze one began to fog up the window there nearby. The beast was sorry that he hurt? Really? He had no reason to be angry with this dragon and so he swallowed a bit of pride and thought back an answer he did not know if the dragon could hear. 'Thanks.'

The second time the dragon spoke in his mind he had the distinct impression that he was not being spoken too directly this time, but rather was being allowed to listen in. D'ren rode a bronze. This one was probably his. So... D'ren felt hurt too?

Looking upon the man in a new light, he really considered him carefully for the first time. His tiredness. His hint of anger. The nearly hidden agony in D'ren's eyes. It was all there. Sand was confused. He wanted to hate the man sitting beside him. His gut wanted to roll with rage but it didn't. Maybe he was just too tired. Or maybe... Just maybe, Sand began to see D'ren as a man instead of a monster.

Opening his mouth he spoke to D'ren. His words this time were not void of emotion. This time there was a mixture of pain, confusion and yes, thankfulness.

"Thank you ...Sir."

He could always hate him again when he felt better, he surmised. But right now, he just didn't have it in him.

Candidate Isle / The Crying Isle [I'shan]
« on: 20 Aug 2012 at 10:33 PM »
Looking down as his life fell away below him, he watched Deep Wood grow small. His mind screamed as his heart was ripped out of his chest and left behind to fall away back down towards the wood he had been so cruelly snatched from. He did not ask for this. He did not want it.

As Ilveriath, with I'shan on his back, still gripped him firmly, they entered the frigid nothingness of between.

When next he saw light, and heat, it was foreign. Even the air tasted different. Crushed, he looked down and saw a good sized island. Is that where he was going to be brought? Was that where the dragons were hiding? It didn't look like much at all. But he did realize something as the ground came closer, there was no way he could swim away and hope to reach the far shore.

What was his life going to be like now? How long would he have to wait before an opportunity to escape presented itself? These thoughts burned through his mind, as his eyes moistened with tears. It was only the wind. Yes, the wind caused by dragon flight was getting into his eyes.

With his one free arm he swiped it over his eyes and grew determined never to show his pain or his crushing sadness. He could not be seen as weak. When facing a dangerous beast, one had to remain calm, think clearly and always be strong. He remembered his father's hunter's training and applied it now. He would be strong, he would try to think clearly. Remaining calm though was easier said than done.

Healing Hall / Re: 'Just Let Me Rest' [D'ren,Talian]
« on: 21 Aug 2012 at 09:50 PM »
A soft thump on the window, brought Sanderon's attention away from D'ren and back onto the bronze. Again, he tried to move nothing but his eyes. As his mind wondered why the healer was taking so long, he heard D'ren say that his bronze was worried about him. Sand was about to open his mouth and say 'I know', but he didn't. He didn't owe this man anything. Why should he care if D'ren knew his bronze had bespoken him already?

When the bronze did speak with him again, Sanderon actually welcomed it. He liked to feel as if he wasn't so alone in his own mind. He tried to hide his deeper thoughts though. It would not be good for the weyrleader or anyone here to know how he truly felt about things. All they knew now was that he was trying to escape back north to his family. Let them keep thinking that. In that he had been lashed perhaps he could 'pretend' that he wouldn't try to 'escape' anymore. That way, when he did make his exit and lived off the land here on his own, they might not know that instead of going north, he would be headed in another direction entirely.

Catching himself thinking these very things as he listened to Ronarth, he quickly slammed those thoughts down deep and covered them over with layers upon layers of built up defenses. Keeping a passive mind now, he concentrated on what Ronarth had to say. It caused Sanderon to frown slightly and glance to D'ren from time to time. He wanted to ask questions about what he was hearing but wondered if he should. Maybe he was better off not knowing. The last thing he wanted to do right now was like this man. That was not going to happen. The less he knew about him the better.

But Sand also couldn't ignore what his eyes were seeing for themselves. Sand was a hunter. That being the case, he had years of training how to be observant and watchful. His observance now, as he looked upon the weyrleader, clearly picked up how shot the man's nerves really were. Added to that was Ronarth's admission that D'ren wanted to go home. Also that D'ren hoped the fighting would stop so they could.

So if we stopped rebelling against our bonds, we would go home? He questioned Ronarth skeptically and then added. If we could go home or at least have the freedom to wander as we wished, I would not have to fight. I just want to be left alone if I can't go home.

Sanderon had not meant to think what he did and hoped suddenly that Ronarth would not relay that to his rider. He was already in enough trouble. He didn't need this added worry of being watched 24/7 on top of it, though he had a very good idea that he already was. How else could they pick him up when he tried to 'escape'.

Can you really read my thoughts and intentions? He asked Ronarth. The answer would be very useful. It never occurred to him until this very moment that he had been tracked by his thoughts alone. That would at least give him back some of his confidence in his ability to disappear from sight and sound.

Hearing D'ren speak up then and tell him about the Healer being the best, and an Honorary Master at that, Sanderon wondered if he should really care. Then he thought that perhaps he should and was hoping that this Honorary Master Healer was also someone who could walk quickly. Because the pain Sand still felt seemed to be increasing in intensity. Perhaps the bruising the slashes caused was also beginning to set in. The swelling of his flesh did not help matters either.

When the footsteps were heard by Sand and then confirmed by D'ren, a part of his mind was relieved. The other part was silently screaming for the person to run.

Honorary Master Healer? Talian. Sanderon finally made the connection. And he was relieved.

Healing Hall / Re: 'Just Let Me Rest' [D'ren,Talian]
« on: 22 Aug 2012 at 12:16 AM »
If everyone worked together, we probably would. But that is not happening now and probably never will. Sanderon thought back to Ronarth with a flash of anger. He wasn't angry at Ronarth but the way everything here was run so terribly. Even the leadership was fragmented. How could there be unity with examples like that? Not to mention the cruelty and unjust conditions placed upon some. It was just plain stupid. How could they have peace if the ones who wanted it the most were denied the very thing everyone claimed to want and that was peace.

It was all a vicious circle that had to be broken. Somehow, by someone or something, things had to be knocked around a bit and resettled in a better way. And it had to happen soon. If not, Sanderon with his new insight of dragons maybe reading his thoughts in order to find him, would disappear for good. And this time, he wouldn't fail. He was better equipped with a very important piece of knowledge. If he hid his every thought, they could not find him. At least that is what he surmised from what little he had learned from the bronze. It would be something worth testing before he made such a bold move as going away. The last thing he wanted was more lashings.

Thanks again Ronarth. You've helped more than you know. Sanderon thought at the bronze right before the sound of breaking glass could be heard. It made him jerk reflexively and then groan through clenched teeth with the movement.

His groan stopped short as he hated for anyone to hear it and watched as D'ren went to his bronze.

Seeing D'ren's gentleness with his Bronze was actually surprising to Sanderon. He thought the weyrleader was a harsh man. But several things he had seen and heard, within the last half-candlemark would contradict his belief. This show of affection was the most convincing of all.

Be well. Sanderon thought to Ronarth when he saw the ichor on his nose.

Sanderon noticed the footsteps stopping nearby and so he turned his full attention there. The healer, Talian, was there in the doorway. Sanderon observed his appearance and tried to judge what the young man was thinking. Would he relieve his pain now? Sanderon sure hoped so. When D'ren noticed Talian standing there too and said his goodbyes, Sand was relieved. He didn't want to think about the weyrleader anymore. There were too many conflicting thoughts and emotions racing around in his brain. He just wanted him gone.

The man's last statement though before he left, made Sand's eyes widen and then quickly narrow. How in the world was he suppose to take that?! Be in the weyrleader's wing? Wasn't that suppose to be a privileged and trusted place? Oh how much he wanted to hate the man right now. Instead of answering favorably or negatively, he closed his eyes until the man was gone. He was angry, frustrated, confused and in a great deal of anguish.

Sanderon opened his eyes again when it was 'safe' to do so and acknowledge the healer with something resembling respectful acceptance in his eyes. He would allow this person to care for him. He felt that Talian would treat him with respect and not like a poor helpless infant or a piece of scum. If he even grinned at Sanderon's pain though, it did not matter how much anguish he was in, he would get up and crawl out of the Healing Hall. In fact he had half a mind to do that already, especially with the window broken now. The soft breeze that came aggravated his open wounds.

"Talian." Sanderon spoke the healers name. Then he offered his own though he wondered if Talian already knew it. "Sanderon."

Healing Hall / Re: 'Just Let Me Rest' [D'ren,Talian]
« on: 22 Aug 2012 at 10:55 AM »
"Good day?" Sanderon frowned with a spark of anger. "Not very."

Sanderon had noticed the brief exchange of body language between D'ren and this healer and wondered about it. "Don't like him very much?" He asked. He really didn't care at this point whether or not Talian did, it was just a way to provide a little distraction as Sanderon worked on sitting up.

Holding onto the bunk with one hand he ever so slowly moved his legs over the side. With agony coursing through his bloody flesh, he pushed off the bed and came into a sitting position. His breath was slightly labored and pull of air that expanded his lungs hurt. Every twitch of the smallest muscle hurt. The softest touch of the breeze hurt him even more. Resting his bloody wrists on his knees, he bent down with eyes closed tight.

He felt like he was being tortured again and the worst hadn't even come yet. 'Cleaning the wounds?' 'Flushing them?' Fellis? Stitches?! What ever happened to just smearing it with numbweed and letting him alone?

Lifting his head, Sanderon took one look at the bowl of medicinal liquid and the Fellis mixture and knew he wasn't going to stick around.  His torture hadn't really ended after all. With his teeth grinding and his back burning, he pushed off the bed and stood. Glancing at the Fellis Juice again, he shook his head and then glanced quickly to the door. With D'ren gone now there was no need for him to stay and 'behave'.

"No thanks. I'll see myself out."

His iron-willed determination, brought Sanderon forward towards the door.

Candidate Isle / Re: The Crying Isle [I'shan, open?]
« on: 22 Aug 2012 at 11:33 AM »
Sanderon did not wince when the island below came rushing up to meet them. He looked down and watched, trying to see everything he could. From this vantage point he could easily see the layout of the land and buildings upon it. There wasn't much here. He quickly came to the conclusion that except for Ilveriath, there were no dragons here. There was no where to hide a clutch of eggs either unless they kept them in the woods but that did not seem right.

Perhaps, he quickly surmised, this was a holding place for those that had been captured.

They spiraled down and finally landed upon the sandy beach there. The landing was surprisingly gentle. Sanderon was eager to feel the ground beneath his feet again so he could run. Run anywhere on the island and just left alone to gather his thoughts and come up with a plan. But he did not feel the ground at his feet. He was held aloft by the blue dragon.

A sudden, almost overwhelming feeling of calmness and reassurance blanketed his mind. At first Sanderon relaxed and felt at ease. His logic kicked in and he opened his mouth and began yelling obscenities at the dragon. "Stay out of my mind!" He finally roared with fury.

Finally being set down with the request that he be calm, Sanderon had it in his mind to race off that very moment. But with his full weight upon his own feet again, his injured left knee began to scream in protest against his plans.

Growling out with murderous hatred in his eyes towards Ilveriath, he followed after I'shan instead. His steps were carefully placed as to not alert this demon pair that he was injured. He would not allow them to see his weakness or pain.

To the barracks he headed with I'shan's near apology screaming in his mind. Sanderon was not stupid enough to chance the swim off the island. Did these people think him stupid? Visions of him pummeling I'shan to a bloody pulp swam around in his mind, as he followed this hated man. He did not act upon his thoughts. Not yet. He wanted to hear I'shan's explanations. Knowledge was power. The more he had, the better his chances of escape.

Healing Hall / Re: Apologies without Action [Sanderon]
« on: 22 Aug 2012 at 11:59 AM »
Sanderon was sitting on the edge of his bed with his wrapped wrists in stark contrast to his tanned skin. He was shirtless and barefoot. His footwear had been confiscated. He was not cold though. The anger he felt within was enough to warm him.

When he heard the slight sound of footsteps coming closer he figured it was just another attendant coming to check up on him so he fixed his glare of hatred upon the door. When it opened to reveal someone else entirely, his angry gaze dissipated slightly as confusion and distrust took it's place. What was Jada doing here?

The smell of food assaulted his nose at this point and his mouth began to water. His stomach rolled with anticipation. He refused to look even the least bit interested in her or the food she had. In fact, he looked upon the ground as he sat there on the bed, wondering what was going to happen now.

He remembered vaguely some of the things she had said at his lashing. Part of him was glad that she had tried to shut the other girl up. Part of him hated her for 'accepting' her place here in weyr. Perhaps her dragon was brainwashing her. The thought was a new and and suddenly made his resolve not to Impress even stronger. He wanted to remain who his was. He wanted his mind to his own.

Perhaps Jada couldn't help herself.

Healing Hall / Re: Apologies without Action [Sanderon]
« on: 22 Aug 2012 at 05:10 PM »
Jada's lighthearted greeting was annoying. There was nothing happy or good about this day. Sanderon kept his mouth shut against the obscenities he felt like describing his day as. There was no point. Besides, Jada had never done anything against him personally so right now, his opinion of her character was still under review. He had to hand it to her though, she could be pleasant even in the most unpleasant of places. Just the fact that she had come to see him at all without flying fists or sharp words was a positive mark in his estimation of her. Whether the rest of the visit went as well remained to be seen.

When he heard her acknowledgment of how he was probably feeling, he tried to keep a stern expression but a quick twitch at the corners of his mouth might have suggested the beginnings of an agreeable smirk. A moment later all trace of it was gone. Instead a passive-aggressive frown in his countenance remained.

Jada brought up the subject of food then, much to Sanderon's inner relief. He was starving. With her talk about the food in Healer Hall, the quick hint of that half-hidden smirk returned though he fought to get it back under control. Now was not the time to make nice. He did not want friends here. He just wanted to be respected as a human being and not the feral creature everyone seemed to think he was. He just wanted to be left alone. He was a caged hunter and he did not like it one bit. At least they didn't tie him up. That was some consolation.

This good food that Jada had brought was also a nice consolation. But could he trust it? Was it laced with sedatives too?

His mind having been distracted with the food she was revealing, suddenly looked upon her when she mentioned that he 'looked good'. After studying her expression and body language and determined that she was sincere, he opened his mouth for the first time and said,

"Thank you Jada. Since I look so good, as you say, perhaps you can make them let me out of here. You are a queen rider, aren't you?"

Well his words did start out thankful and almost kind but they turned sour as his angry frustration leaked out.

Healing Hall / Re: Apologies without Action [Sanderon]
« on: 22 Aug 2012 at 07:24 PM »
Truth be told he was far from being well enough to leave. But he would be the last one to admit it. Seeing Jada's emotions flow across her face, gave Sanderon a good idea of what she might be thinking. Who was this Jada person? Every moment that went by seemed to provide another tiny piece of the puzzle. Did he really care about how Jada felt right now or who she really was? Surprisingly the answer was yes. But again he would be the last to admit it. He did not want to be 'nice' right now. He wanted to pummel the world and roar out his raging defiance.

For now, he behaved. There was no reason for him to move and thus cause himself more pain. There was no reason to harm Jada. Not that he would want to anyway. He wasn't the type that would ever hurt a female. He cared about them too much. Should she turn and attack him though, he would have no reservations about defending himself against her. He seriously doubted Jada would do such a thing anyway. All the pieces of her character's puzzle that he had seen so far suggested a kind pillar of strength. Not a devious enemy.

Calming down slightly from his frustrated anger when she began speaking again, her comment about getting chased out with a spoon caused a surprising sound to come softly to his throat. It was silenced quickly but was unmistakeable. Even the twitch of his mouth suggested at the truth. He had chuckled.

Having caught himself chuckling even for the briefest of moments seemed like a betrayal to his family. He could not be happy here. He should not smile. He should not find humor even in the littlest of things. Life without his parents and his two brothers was not suppose to be good. Turning his face down to look upon the wrappings covering his wrist wounds, he gave a troubled sigh and just sat there looking unhappy again as Jada spoke.

He had just been tied like a dangerous beast in the midst of a crowd of people that really didn't care about him personally and tortured until he cried and screamed out his agony. How could he possibly chuckle now? Shaking his head just slightly at himself as he buried himself in his own mind, he missed some of what Jada said.

When he raised his eyes again and considered her, she was pouring fruit juice. Taking his own cup very carefully so as not to show his pain with the movement caused, he took a sip and closed his eyes for a brief moment as the cool taste comforted his throat. Opening them again he commented to Jada, "Well, I wasn't scraped."

Hearing her explain to him about how she wasn't 'technically' a Queen Rider yet but a weyrling, made a lot of things fall into place. Jada held no all. Not yet. So even if she were to tell someone to let him go, they probably wouldn't listen.

Looking into his juice glass and then over to the basket the promised good food, his gaze tried to search her own. He was truly confused and his expression hinted at it around his eyes. "Why are you doing this? Why are you here Jada? ...The truth please." His voice was low and surprisingly calm.

Whether she trusted him enough to tell him why she had come, even if it was just to be nice, or not tell him was totally up to her. He would be satisfied with a shrug at that point and leave it at that. But he did hope to be told. He did not know what to think of her yet. Was her act of generous kindness to be trusted? He had no idea and it made him uncomfortable.

Taking another sip of his juice, he moved the glass back over to the table next to him and kicked himself mentally when a slight cringe escaped his control. Don't show pain. He told himself for the millionth time since his capture. Be strong Sanderon.

Healing Hall / Re: 'Just Let Me Rest' [D'ren,Talian]
« on: 22 Aug 2012 at 09:22 PM »
It took all the control he had not to scream and fall right onto the floor. One step, two steps. Each one was a marathon of torture. What had he been thinking?! He did not have it in him to leave. He knew it. Talian probably knew it. So why was he trying?

He did not want to be drugged. He wanted to be in complete control. Without that, there was fear. Fear spurned on his anger. Anger brought rage. Rage caused him to do things he normally never would, like fighting with those brown riders that had dragged him out to be lashed. He wasn't normally a violent person but he seemed to be getting himself into more and more situations where rage was the outcome. No wonder he was in such a state now.

If they would all just leave him alone...

Almost there. The door was withing reach. Only a few more steps and he would be through it. Just keep going.

The door closed quickly and he was faced with an impossible situation. The healer was standing between him and freedom and he couldn't do a single thing about it. Not one. He was about to collapse right where now stood, swaying slightly and shaking like a leaf. Sweat again glistened on his brow as his eyes clouded with the pain.

 "I will not be drugged!" He tried to scream at Talian but his voice barely croaked out a pain-filled whisper. A sudden tip in the room made him loose his balance and he reached out and tried to hold onto either Talian's shoulder or the door behind him for support.

Sanderon's strength left him and if Talian did not interrupt his fall as his knees gave out, he would now be laying in agony upon the floor.

What the healer had said about infection made sense. Sanderon could not ignore such logic even if he had the strength to. Going against all he was inside, he reached out and asked for Talian's aid.

"Help." He mumbled.

Healing Hall / Re: Apologies without Action [Sanderon]
« on: 22 Aug 2012 at 09:40 PM »
Sanderon thought Jada's wide-eyed reaction to his brief laugh to be even more humorous than her comment that caused him to chuckle in the first place but this time he let nothing show. He quietly appreciated the fact that she did not think his wounds were insignificant. But he also did not want her pity. Having already seen that reaction pass across her face, even if briefly, was irritating.

He noticed her look towards the blanket he sat on and wondered what it was she was thinking. But he waited for his last question to be answered first. He wondered what she would say and if he could believe it. When Jada opened her mouth he was prepared to do a mental growl at her answer. What actually came out of her mouth though was surprisingly refreshing. Though she had not answered as to why she had come, she also did not lie. She would think before she spoke. It was something he immediately admired. Another positive in his estimation of her had occurred. And this time he rewarded her with more than just a brief smile.

This time his slightly longer-than-brief smile was accompanied by quiet praise. "You are wise to think before answering. I appreciate that." There were no trumpets sounding or streamers falling but his praise was so rare there ought to have been. Of course Jada could think what she would. Sanderon gave what was due and now he retained his silence again.

With the selection of foodstuffs that she had brought, his mouth began to water.

"I am a least I used to be." His eyes flashed with a quick moment of anger and then softened again as he added. "I like meat. ....Thank you. ....You didn't bring a knife with you by chance?"

Candidate Isle / Re: The Crying Isle [I'shan, open?]
« on: 22 Aug 2012 at 10:41 PM »
Somehow he managed to enter the barracks and looked around with angry, suspicious eyes. He was automatically relieved to see a nearby chair he could sit in but refused to do so until told. Every detail no matter how small was collected automatically by his eyes and given a place in his mind. Everything in this room, except his reason for being there, was logical. The chairs facing the desk were on the opposite side from the door, thus allowing the rider that brought the prisoner in to be between them and the door. The paperwork on the desk was for collecting information. It all made perfect sense to Sanderon.

Except why he was there. Sure they had told him that they needed him and that he could possibly impress a dragon but nothing else. He hated not knowing. It brought fear up into his heart and mind. He hated his own fear and so anger was a quick result. Thankfully, that anger was just anger. His rage, for now, was silent.

When I'shan had moved to the desk, Sanderon did not wait for the invitation to sit that never came. He just did it out of necessity. Rubbing his left knee as inconspicuously as he could he listened to the 'history' lesson the man squirmed through. He wanted to spit. But he didn't. He kept his silence.

When he was asked for his name and birth turn, he kept his silence again. He merely kept his gaze focused upon I'shan and fumed silently with dangerous anger burning in his eyes. His arms he now crossed over his chest and he forced himself to relax slightly in his chair. These ones seemed to know too much about him already. He wasn't giving them anything more. How did they find him in the first place. Was it such a horribly unlucky day for him or did they know he would be where he was? And if so, how?

"I'll answer your questions if you answer mine. You said I could go home at some point. When? ...And where are the dragons you spoke of? I don't see them here. Tell me that and I might tell you what year I was born."

Healing Hall / Re: Apologies without Action [Sanderon]
« on: 22 Aug 2012 at 11:05 PM »
With his juice refilled he carefully picked up his cup again and took another drink. Moving slowly he replaced it as she began to speak. Her voice was amiable enough but what she chose to speak and ask after a time caused Sanderon to stiffen. His heart screamed in agony when she brought up the subject of hunting in such an easy, light-hearted way. Did nobody warn her about the one subject you should never ask him about? Sure he had told her that he was a hunter, but she did not need to dive into the subject deeper. All those questions brought back too many memories and too many realities he now faced because of it all.

That agony in his heart quickly flashed into serious anger. Rage wasn't there quite yet but it was sneaking up quickly. His father was a hunter. His brothers were hunters. His mother was the one that cooked all of their hunts with delicious aromas. He had been on his very first solo over-night hunt. It was his family's way of marking the passage between boy and man. He never even got to start before madness crashed out of the sky and captured his very soul. Now, he was forbidden to hunt at all. They didn't even trust him with a simple eating utensil!

His face was not a mask now. It was a dangerous, feral landscape of pain and rage.

Trying to stand in his rage only to lose his balance in his pain and weakness only caused him to become more upset. His juice glass had been knocked off when he fell against the table. Any food that might have been in his reach was probably also scattered.

"Hunting is not what we do!" He screamed in her face. "It is who we are! I am a hunter! They cage me like an animal!"

Trying again to stand, he wanted to break something, someone, anything. He was not thinking clearly and could only release his tortured mind and heart. Too bad it cause his flesh to feel it too when he grabbed the table and overturned it. Screaming in rage and agony as he did so when his wounds split open again in protest.

The footsteps that came running in response to the 'explosion' in his room, only made him angrier. He faced Jada then and groaned out in his rage, something that his heart was pleading with her to do. "Run."

Healing Hall / Re: Apologies without Action [Sanderon]
« on: 23 Aug 2012 at 03:33 PM »
Sanderon wanted to continue in his rage. He wanted Jada to run, not because he was going to give chase but because when he heard the footsteps running closer he figured he knew what might happen next and he did not want Jada hurt.

When she faced him with a calm 'motherly' strength in her stance and expression, his rage began to fizzle. The pain that encompassed him when his back wounds split open made it very difficult for him to remain upright. His feral gaze visibly softened as he was berated calmly by Jada. His face of animal rage became for a brief moment that of a scared boy. His eyes looked around his feet at the mess he had caused. Looking back to Jada he did something he had never done since his capture. He allowed someone else to see his eyes fill with tears.

His mouth opened to say that he was so sorry, but he never got the chance. When the door slammed open with two of the stronger healer assistants coming quickly into the room, Sanderon's defenses were back up in full force and his anger returned as he took a step backward. Bumping against the side of the bed he tripped himself up and sat hard.

A quick glance with a hint of fear was given to Jada before the man and woman took in the situation and hurried forward. "Lady Jada, you should leave now." One of them said as they looked to Sanderon with great disapproval. Sanderon knew what was coming. They would drug him, whether he wanted to be or not.

He did not stand again. He couldn't. Instead he glared at the two, hoping they would take his expression as a warning to leave him be. In truth he was terrified. His anger was real but it was also a mask. He did not want them to know he was scared. Scared people were viewed as weak. And scared people who let their fear lead them could not defend themselves.

"I tripped!" Sanderon suddenly lied. Hoping they would believe it, but they didn't. It was too obvious what had happened, especially since he had screamed in his rage. Jada had been the only one here that had ever reached his heart in his peek of rage. Maybe it was the smell of the food. Maybe it was her calm disapproval as she faced him with logic. Maybe Jada reminded him of his beloved mother. Whatever the reason was, he felt drawn to her. He wanted to just talk and not rage but he had been trapped in this vicious cycle too long. And now it was too late for him. He was about to pay the price...again.

When a one of the persons here now was examined closer, Sanderon could see the needlethorn in her hand. Tranquilizer!

"You've done it now kid. We can do this the easy way or the hard way." The man said as he came in with the woman close behind holding the needlethorn at the ready. Both ignored Jada at this point.

Sanderon could not see if Jada stayed or not, his attention was completely on the two that were threatening. Now the smartest thing for Sanderon to have done would be to apologize and plead with them for forgiveness and hopefully avoid getting drugged. But, Sanderon wasn't inclined to plead with anyone at this point. His answer to everything it seemed was to react with anger. It seemed to be the only thing around here that got any sort of results. So his answer of "Shell you!" Wasn't taken too kindly.

He tried to fight the man off but he was as weak as a kitten and it wasn't long before he was being held face down on the bed with a needlethorn in the back of his thigh as his back bled and his desperate struggles and effort-filled groans slowly died down to silence as the drug took effect.

When Sanderon was completely subdued and was laying there with a dazed look in his sleepy eyes unable to move, the two persons began to clean up the room and set it back in order. One of them left early and was probably making arrangements for a door lock to be made. The other left soon after to alert one of the staff that Sanderon's back wounds would need to be tended to again.

Sanderon was still conscious but he was totally incapable of movement. He could blink his eyes and if he really tried he might be able to speak with great difficulty.

He spoke now. His words barely audible and terribly mumbled. To Jada, if she was still there, he said, "I'm sorry."

OOC: Feel free to have Jada stay by his bedside if you like. The drugs will wear off eventually and he is still able to speak although it is difficult.

Healing Hall / Re: 'Just Let Me Rest' [D'ren,Talian]
« on: 23 Aug 2012 at 04:02 PM »
Sanderon tried. He really did, but his limit of endurance had been reached. With tight-lipped silence, he let Talian carry him back to the bed. Being weak and helpless did not bode well with him. He had to remain strong. Those that were weak were often crushed by the cruel. He wasn't strong at all right now and it was distressing. How could he deal with danger when it came?

Making it to the bed, Talian let him down upon it and Sanderon heeded the man's coaxing and lay upon his stomach. He did not have an ounce of strength left in him.

When asked if he wanted to do without the drugs, he managed to say, "Just do what you got to do. I want... I need to stay alert."

Sanderon knew it was not going to be pleasant but he refused to put himself under the control of another. There was no one here he trusted enough to do that with yet. Once the painful procedure started though, he might feel differently. But for now he wouldn't even consider drugs as an option.

With his bloody wrists on either side of his head again, and his blood from them and his back soaking into the blankets, he waited for Talian to either speak or begin working. He hoped the man was the gentle sort...and quick too.

Healing Hall / Re: Apologies without Action [Sanderon]
« on: 24 Aug 2012 at 03:47 PM »
How long he slept, Sanderon did not know. When he slowly came awake the vision of Jada's gentle smile came into his mind. A soft smile crossed his lips at the memory before reality slammed back into place. His back felt gooped up with slime again. No doubt the healers had taken care of it while he was out. Immediately he stiffened with the memory of what happened shortly before he 'fell asleep'.

His mouth no longer smiled when he realized how inconsiderate and bull-headed he had been. Jada had been kind in bringing food to him. Why did he go and mess it all up. Angry with himself, his eyes flashed when he finally opened them. He felt he could move now as the drugs had worn out their effectiveness upon him.

Moving carefully, he sat up slowly in bed. His hands briefly holding each side of his head until the room stopped spinning. Thinking himself to be alone in the room he was surprised to hear the nearly inaudible sound of someone breathing nearby. Lifting his aching head quickly, he looked to see who it was. He saw that the room was back in order and cleaned nicely from the awful mess he had made of things earlier. He also saw Jada and was uncertain as to her motive for her still being there. She must hate him now. He wouldn't blame her if she did.

"Jada?" His voice was quiet and hinted at his wariness of her. Had she stuck around to berate him for his actions? Was she about to pronounce further punishment upon him? He knew he deserved it and so waited for her mouth to spill forth with angry words, nearly cringing with the anticipation of it.

Candidate Isle / Re: The Crying Isle [I'shan, open?]
« on: 24 Aug 2012 at 04:31 PM »
With the swelling in his knee making his pain worse, Sanderon sat there with his arms still crossed and his eyes narrowed angrily as the man in front of the desk rambled on. Sand listened to every word I'shan said and still had no definite answer to his questions. He was getting very irritable and his frustration was only growing with each moment he sat there. If this man apologized one...more...time...Sanderon might just have to get up and punch I'shan in the face. It just made him sick.

Sorry to have broken your parent's hearts. Sorry for stealing your very chance at finishing your manhood ceremony. Sorry for making your supportive brothers think that you were a failure. Sorry for stealing the only life you've ever known. Sorry for tearing you away from your loving family. Sorry...

Sanderon spit onto the floor. "In other words, you have no clue how long I'll be kept captive here?" He growled menacingly.

When I'shan suggested that he just enjoy it all and treat is as a vacation, his eyes widened with incredulity. Not being able to help himself, something in him snapped and his rage came slamming into his chest. Pain or no pain, he stood up, leaned over the desk and swiped his arm across it, trying to scatter all that was on it onto the floor.

Into I'shan's face he would not scream. No. This time, his 'quiet' rage had settled. It was something he had never experienced before and it felt dangerous. In a tight voice through clenched teeth he spoke very slowly and very distinctly. "Sanderon. Born 06.09 of 212. And 'this'..." He glared murderously, " not a vacation."

Why he chose to give his name and birth date as the man had requested was a mystery. Did it really matter? Perhaps it was a poor attempt to reclaim what little he had left; Himself.

The dagger on his belt, remained in his belt. Though his eyes and voice might make him seem like the murderous type, he had no intention of opening a hole in I'shan's throat. There was no reason to at this point. His capture had already taken place. To kill the man now would just make things worse. So he refrained. But his eyes still tried to kill the man as he continued to glare.

Healing Hall / Re: 'Just Let Me Rest' [D'ren,Talian]
« on: 24 Aug 2012 at 05:11 PM »
The sound of Talian wringing out the rag into the redwort solution made him stiffen with sickening dread. More powerful than his want to be free of the pain was his need to know what was going on around him. Being drugged was not an option with him. It never had been, even when he was still with his family. His oldest brother Sarron was the same way. His father might also be that way, but Sanderon had never known the man to be injured. Perhaps he was too skilled to make injurious mistakes. His closest brother Arkero needed to be drugged. He was brave and all but did not deal with pain well. He welcomed the relief that came from the drugs.

Thinking on his family now, Sanderon tried not to groan while his wounds were being cleaned and flushed. Talian's hands were gentle and very quick. It was something he was extremely grateful for. When the one with a small bit of debri in it was given a slightly harder wiping out, he couldn't help but to jerk his body with a muffled cry into the pillow.

Done. The cleaning was done? Wonderful! Maybe now he could feel the wonderful effects of numbweed.

Stitches? A very slight trembling entered his limbs with the effort it took for him to just lay there and take more.

Taking a deep breath as was suggested, he let it out not with mumbled numbers but quickly with a tortured groan which he quickly tried to suppress. The first stab of the needle had been totally expected but worse than he thought it would be. Was he getting weak-minded in his exhaustion? It was just a needle prick after all. He should be able to handle a few of those without any trouble at all. Right?

Each stab and gentle pulling of the thread to close the wound, so it could heal, was keenly felt. It was not fun in the least but Sand knew that when it was over, the relief could come. He just had to get through it. Talian's voice speaking about mundane, daily activities was at first irritating but then it became his anchor. He did not listen to the words so much as the voice itself. Talian might not realize how much this simple act of speaking was helping Sanderon to cope. He would have to thank the man when it was all said and done.

"Numbweed now?" Sanderon mumbled with hope, when the stitching was complete.

It was early evening the day after Jada's visit and his unruly tantrum had opened his back wounds again. It had been a day of confusion, anger and conflicting emotions. Today was no better, except for the fact that he had not raged and he had not been drugged. He was highly anxious though and though his feet did not pace back and forth across the floor of his 'cage' his mind certainly was.

Currently he sat in one of the chairs near the table that was in the room. His pillow was behind his back, providing a gentle cushion. On the table before him was a mug of warm (not hot) klah and an half-eaten plate of 'healer slop' they dared to call food.

He was not allowed to leave his room at this point and he still had not been given his footwear back to help ensure it. What the healers failed to realize was that he could leave anytime he wanted. All he had to do was break the window and climb out. But he was not well enough to do so and he really didn't have a reason at this point. The last thing he wanted was another struggle with the healers as they dragged him back and drugged him up. He wasn't that desperate to escape his room. At least not yet. Being cooped up was not easy though. He was incredibly bored and highly anxious as well. He had no idea what the leaders would do to him or ask of him once he was allowed to leave the hall.

Twiddling the mug of klah in his hands, he took a sip, frowned at the lukewarmness of it and set it back down with a sigh.

Healing Hall / Re: Pacing the Cage [Lymsleia, Open]
« on: 24 Aug 2012 at 10:51 PM »
As he fiddled absentmindedly with his mug his sharp hearing picked up the sound of quiet footsteps coming closer. He did not recognize their sound. Having them stop right on the other side of his door caused him to frown with concern for a moment before his face took up his usual mask of angry defiance. Who would be coming to his room right now? The healers' assistants usually did not take his food plate away this early.

Turning his gaze upon the door he waited for it to open but it didn't. Not right away. His angry gaze slowly slipped into a frown of frustrated uncertainty. The voice that began to speak on the other side was unmistakeable. He would remember that voice any day. It had caused him added pain during his public lashing by delaying things when it began to speak up against things.

It was brave to speak up, but not when doing so did more harm than good. His anger returned as he listened. He wondered if she ever shut up or whether she would just rattle on throughout eternity if given the chance. Having her apologize in a rambling sort of way from the opposite side of the door was highly irritating. And he just wanted to throw his plate at the door and yell at her to go away.

But he didn't.

When the door finally did open, he looked upon her with intense scrutiny. His eyes still showed with anger but wasn't glaring like before. It might be some comfort to the young woman if she knew how close she had avoided his screaming abuse.

Although her rambling irritated him to no end, she was a meek sort that had taken the time to come and say she was sorry. He turned his anger away from her and onto his plate of half-eaten slop when she mentioned his lack of having touched it.

"You're more than welcome to eat it." He growled quietly, trying his best to 'behave'. "Come in." He offered out of a surprising show of good will. Though his words were kind, they were still sounded sharp with the anger he was suppressing.

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