[AU | By invite only]
[Simon couldn't open his eyes. He just couldn't. If he opened his eyes, they'd realize he was there and they'd hurt him or kill him or do something terrible. So Simon sat in the hallway, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, eyes squeezed shut as tightly as he could manage, forehead resting against his knees.
All the bruises and cuts still ( Read more... )
All the bruises and cuts still ( Read more... )
Comments 173
Teppelin didn't get many visitors. Her father, Lorgenome, was very peculiar about who he let in and out of the castle after all. And every single one of them were beastmen.
Nia didn't have anything against the beastmen. She had grown up with them. They were her father's servants, his subjects, the people he ruled over. And many of them were very kind to her when the situation called for it. But during her years at Teppelin, she had always noticed how different the beastmen were from her. She had no tails, no fur, no fangs, no extra appendages of her own. Not like they did.
Nia was very aware she wasn't a beastman. But she had no idea what she was, in comparison to them. She didn't know why she was here-- or why they were here, or anything else. The beastmen filed in and out of the palace, always going places, always seeing things, while she was stuck inside, surrounded by nothing but walls and her father's servants and people who aided her ever need. Being the naturally curious girl that she was, she couldn't ( ... )
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Though her voice made him glance up, he only looked at her through one eye--the good one, and only enough so that he could see her. She would barely be able notice that one eye peeking out of the hair. In the last two days he'd learned to pretend you didn't notice them. Any of them--
The first time claws connected with his back, he couldn't help but stumble. Then he ran. He didn't care that he was bleeding or by the time he'd stopped he'd been completely lost (though he'd regretted that when his "guardian" had found out the trouble he caused finding a way back), and now the bandages covering most of his skin were a testament to how bad the wounds had been--
--but she looked human. Not almost human. Or mostly human. She looked... human. It had to be some kinda trick.]
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It was no matter. There was no way she could miss those bandages and bruised hands and blood-caked clothing. Whatever this young boy had been through, it had been rough. And a small amount of pity and worry blossomed in her stomach for him]
Are you lost? [She still sounded so innocently curious as she spoke. She didn't mean him any harm, after all. She merely wanted to know where he came from]
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He jerked back away from her, breathing heavily. No longer hiding behind his knees or hair, he pressed himself against the wall. There was pretend fierceness in his eyes, badly disguising pure terror. He tried to answer, but he realized his tongue was stuck to the top of his mouth and he had no desire to remove it.
Instead he just sat there, staring at her. His eyes were bloodshot (or at least one was, the other could barely open), and his lower lip was bloody and swollen. His chest was covered in bandages, brown from dried blood, and his jacket and shorts torn. One of the lenses of his goggles, hanging around his neck, was cracked and the core drill--he wouldn't let them take the core drill... his soul--was crooked.
His chest heaved with the pure effort to breathe alone, though each breath was shaky. He finally swallowed.] W-what do you want?
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Why would you say something so awful?
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[He lifts his hand to the wall, just in case. He's not leaning on it, only steadying himself. It helps to know you're at the proper angle with the floor. Just his fingertips leave traces of blood along the wall.]
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... surely you have someone who would be very upset if you did not get better.
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He found somebody else. ... Besides if they cared, I wouldn't be here.
[His foot catches and he almost falls but he catches himself just in time.]
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