Logs:Not a Murderer
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| RL Date: 22 September, 2011 |
| Who: Taikrin |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Vignette. Taikrin's turnday present this turn: finding out she didn't kill the dude she pounded into a bloody pulp after Iskiveth's flight. |
| Where: Taikrin's Weyr, HRW |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Teris/Mentions, Riorde/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: References events that took place in Logs:It's_never_easy... |
| « It's that man's pet. » Taikrin jumped at Szadath's intrusion, tearing her gaze away from the entrancing flames in her fireplace to blink a little stupidly at the blue firelizard perched on the arm of her couch. It stared at her, a little scoldingly (she could see Zuman in its eyes, concerned and disapproving and exasperated) then held out its leg with attached message tube. With fumbling fingers she unrolled it, unable to breathe until her vision steadied enough to make out the familiar scrawl on the scrap of hide.
The sense of relief that swept through her was like a cold breeze, clearing away some of the tension that had knotted there in the back of her head (like Szadath, knotted red and hard and HOT, pressing on something primal buried deep within her skull and demanding relief and surcease and to make it stop STOP) and giving her a little precious room to think in her own skull. She wasn't a murderer. At least, not this time. She was pretty sure she hadn't actually killed anyone outright before she'd gone looking for trouble (so much RED, on her hands and on her face and clouding her vision and filling her mind and more and more spurting from the raw-fleshed THING she was pounding under her fists over and over and over). She hadn't meant to kill him, of course; he hadn't meant enough to her. Hadn't been anything, actually, except a conveniently placed obstacle that she could tackle, that she wasn't so afraid of (at least not before his fists on her cheekbone and his boot in her stomach and oh faranth she was failing at this like she'd failed Teris and Iskiveth and it was happening all again until « NO » banishing the fear in a sea of crimson), that she could /win/ against. Just a simple fight, like the dozen or so she'd done in the months before, just to take the edge off. She flipped the little scrap of paper over to get the message on the back, tracing each word with a cautious finger.
« I take care of you. And you take care of me. » "Of course-- a'course we do, Szad." « You should go out. It's your hatching day. You need booze and greens, and you need them now. » "I dunno, Szad, I really ain't--" « /I/ need them, so you need them. Get up. Wash your face. You're going. » CommentsComments on "Logs:Not a Murderer"Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 07 Feb 2013 06:33:32 GMT.
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Comments
Comments on "Logs:Not a Murderer"Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 07 Feb 2013 06:33:32 GMT.
._. Taikrin's one scary lady.
And Szadath is the smartest dragon ever. GREENS AN BOOZE, WOO! He knows best.
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