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Topics - Sanderon

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Weyrfolk Hall / Homecoming Apologies [Aparicus, Open]
« on: 03 Oct 2012 at 04:05 AM »
This was the day that Sanderon would be brought back to the weyr after his long time on the island. He did not know whether to be nervous, irritated or pleased. With these emotions swirling around in his gut, he swung his leg over Ilveriath's neck and slid down to the ground. Turning he looked up at the blue rider and gave him a thankful nod and gave Ilveriath a gentle pat he did not think anyone else would see and silently thanked the blue as well.

Turning around he took in the site of the Weyrfolk Hall where his old room had been located. He had lived in the candidate barracks in the beginning, but his 'disruptive behavior' barred him from not only that place for now but the hatching sands as well.

Along with the Hall, he also noticed a few others not that far away. The Flower Girl, Aparicus was one of them. Cringing slightly as he remember his terrible rudeness when last he saw her, he stepped away from I'shan and Ilveriath and took a step closer to the Weyrfolk Hall. He wondered as he moved, what he should do now.

Should he forget what had happened and leave it all behind? Or should he face it directly and apologize for what he had done? Closing his eyes as if in pain for a brief moment, he opened them again and took another step but this time it was in the direction of the Flower Girl. He had an apology to make.

Candidate Isle / Killing the Rage [M][Solo]
« on: 31 Aug 2012 at 04:26 PM »
Sanderon's body began to feel stronger. With his physical strength came a mental strength he did not want to know. It was not a good feeling. It was the overpowering rage growing stronger in the shadows of his mind. Like a beast that lurked in the dark, it was getting ready to pounce. Sanderon could feel it there. It was getting more dangerous with each passing day. 

The mental barriers Sanderon was frantically trying to rebuild to prevent the rage from growing kept crumbling. They refused to remain in their places. The mental cage that had safely contained his anguish that had been protected by his prowling rage was failing. The beast within was no longer keeping his anguish contained. It was battering down the defenses and threatening to set it free. He could not allow that to happen. He could feel it happening though and he was powerless to prevent it. He was no longer in control of his own mind it seemed and slowly feeling it break down scared him very much. He did not want to face his rage or his agony. He couldn't.

There came a point a seven-day after he had first woken here on the isle again, when he was very thankful to be locked in his room. He could feel his rage finally crawling out of its hole. This was the day he would see himself in a way he had hoped to never see again. He lay on his side upon his bed and stared at the locked door as his hands gripped his hair. Right behind the growing rage was the terrifying feeling of all the anguish he had repressed for so long boiling up after it. He would have to face that beast too. He did not think he would survive.

Having already warned Ilveriath not to let I'shan in his room several hours earlier, Sanderon lay like that upon his bunk for what seemed like a lifetime. His body began to sweat with the strain of his mind. He was trying everything he had to keep himself contained. He tried to be strong. He had to be strong. But he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was quickly losing the battle. This was the day he would either have to kill the rage within or be forever lost to it's power. He did not want to lose his mind. He did not want to be a danger to others either.

When his mind finally clawed itself free from his control, he whimpered.

Sanderon's sweated cheek lay upon the cool floor. He forehead was bruised from headbutting his door. His throat was hoarse and sore from screaming and yelling like a banshee. His tortured lungs heaved in what air it could. His knuckles were bloody from pounding the walls and every object in the small room he could find. His body trembled violently as if very chilled. His clothing smelled heavily of urine.

The room did not come away unscathed either. The bed he had once lay upon was over turned and shoved into a far corner. The rush mattress was torn and its contents scattered about. His blanket lay in torn pieces against the now-dented urine bucket that had been slammed around. It's contents having sprayed the wall, the floor and his body.

In silence, Sanderon lay there in the middle of the room. Though trembling violently and gasping for air, his mind was not done with his torture. By an iron-willed determination, Sanderon had fought himself, the room and his rage into complete submission. The terrible beast that was his rage, had been killed. But the beast that remained was a much stronger force and it was about to tear him apart.

The anguish he had trapped deep inside for so long battered out of the cage of his mind. He tried to fight it back out of habit with whatever strength he had left but it could no longer be denied. Bloody fists gripped his hair as his mind and throat began to wail. His heart screamed with the pain and it pounded harshly inside his chest. The terrible agony of not being strong enough ripped through every fabric of his being. Every scrap of hope he had desperately clung to of ever seeing his family again was cruelly torn away...he wailed, he cried, and he mourned. Tensing and shaking, Sanderon's tortured mind began to release all that he had tried so hard to bury away.

Being so incredibly weak to begin with from his fight with his rage, his anguish did not have a chance to fully release before his strength finally failed and he fell into a fitful, troubled sleep upon the floor. His body trembled periodically as if it were very cold.

Candidate Isle / Trapped Within
« on: 28 Aug 2012 at 06:35 PM »
28.04.232 - evening

When Sanderon's body began to be moved without his consent, his mind began to rage again. Surprisingly, his body remained as limp as before. Was his mind so completely gone that he could not control his own body? The pain he felt increased sharply as he was tossed like a sack of firestone over T'shiro's shoulder.

Behind the angry rage boiling in his mind, a part of him grabbed hold of Ronarth's mind and clung on like a frightened child. It was the bronze's comforting touch in his mind that gave him the only hope he had left.

Don't leave me! His terrified mind cried, as the strong sedative was administered by a healer before he could be taken out to the isle. It was for everyone's safety including his own. His mind sank into oblivion shortly after and he knew no more for several days.

Time Passes

After being locked in a secure room, Sanderon's wounds were cleaned, re-stitched and covered in numbweed and clean bandages. Not knowing how their 'mental' patient would react to being locked up, they kept him under heavy sedation for a few days. His wounds needed a chance to heal before he did himself permanent damage.

During his days of being unaware he was cared for like an infant. He was carefully given a soft food diet one little bite at a time until his body either rejected it or swallow instinctively. Every time his body relieved itself he was cleaned. He was bathed and his wounds were tended to as needed.

03.05.232 (Current Thread date)

On the morning of the sixth day after he was brought to the island it was determined that Sanderon could be safely taken out of his sedation.

The first sensation that came to Sanderon was sound, followed quickly by a terrible thirst and a vicious headache.

First the sound. Sanderon concentrated on it without moving. He really couldn't move at this point yet anyway. Someone was singing softly. It was a comforting voice; a male's voice and it sounded good to his ears. It was something he could focus on while he lay there on his back not able to do anything else. A short while passed as he listened, before his thirst gave him reason to lick his dry lips. He was very parched. His tongue felt so dry and thick within his mouth.

The vicious headache that slammed into his senses a moment after his thirst came made him moan. He did not even try to open his eyes at this point. Ever so slowly, he reached for his head with his arms and held it tight as he very carefully turned onto his side and curled up into a fetal position, moaning as he moved.

Was his mind his own again at this point? It was hard to tell. The drugs were still wearing off at this point and he really wasn't thinking anything at all. 

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.

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 / '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.

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