Posts
IC Posts
Deceased
Myrddin Vylasar
- Jaz228215
❝ Maybe I wasn't made for this world ❞
Frustrating as it was, there was little he could do about the situation. With no voice of his own, nor a presence that was really appreciated by the people in this room, he was simply ignored. Whatever he wrote down on the paper was barely looked at. And every time when he pushed someone away, they just went on and forced their ways on him anyway. The new guards his mother assigned to him were awful people and every waking second was just pure torture at this point. It was like history repeating itself, like how it was so many years ago. When no-one had any respect for him and he was being treated as a dumb child, as an animal even. As if he couldn't only speak, but also couldn't understand them. And he really was doing his best not to lash or act out. But damn, it was hard. He really had to bite the inside of his cheek not to scream out. Because if he would, he would look more like a child than anything else. But as days turned into a week he was getting more and more annoyed. They were really testing him. Pushing every button they could. He could cry, but he barely had any privacy anymore.
And when he had been pushed once more when trying to practise his walking, he just about had it. Myrddin had been patient with them. By the Gods he had bit his tongue and had hold back his tears for all the hurt and pain they were causing him. But enough was enough. All he was trying to do was get better, learn to walk again with his new tools. He wanted to go, go outside and continue with his life. Because staying within this room, it would drive him crazy. And perhaps he already was. Because when his grey eyes focussed on the guard who had placed his hand on his chest, pushing him back, the man raised a brow. Tilting his head a bit, it was clear he didn't understand the expression of annoyance and anger that was written all over the blonde's face. He couldn't expect him to know how to read such things, as he already wasn't able to read his request that were put down on paper. You couldn't be more clearer than that. But alas, it would seem that even that was a huge task for these people. Shy would never disrespect him this way, Shy would never allow anyone to treat him this way. He
And well, he wasn't a pushover either. He never had been. He had always stood his ground when he was being treated as if he was the embodiment of useless human trash. The many tales of him lashing out in anger were one of the many things that were a result of it. It had been a while since he had felt such feelings boil up in his chest once more. And if he wasn't as weak as he was, there would have been a chance that he would have restored to actual physical violence. The guard was lucky that the tall captain wasn't doing so well right now. He was barely skin and bones at the point, much of his muscles having deteriorated due to him not properly eating and not keeping up with any training. And yet, there was still one thing he had that the other didn't. And that was his size. Despite still having one broken leg, Myrddin was still taller than most people when he stood up using his crutches. What it would bring to a fight when things escalated, however, was a completely different story. But as the man pushed him back again and he almost stumbled backwards, he could feel his blood start to boil. Using his crutches to keep himself upwards he looked at the man with eyes that were clear; you're done.
And he could simply write a letter or inform his mother about this behaviour. But that rational kind of thinking didn't pass his mind. "I've told you already, I'm not watching you stumble around for another hour, get back in the bed," It was clear they didn't even want him to practice, which in many ways was logical. If he fell, they had to get the healers. If something happened, they had to do extra work. They had to assist him if he got stuck, if he wanted something. It were all risks and in many ways they also followed orders that were given to them. The blonde man was an over worker, always had been. And pushing himself to learn to walk again, straining his body in the process, well... That wasn't a real surprising sight. But they didn't tell him that. All they did was push him back when he didn't listen, like they had done now. And when he tried to ask them for something, they ignored him. He was done with that. He pushed himself more upwards, looking down at the man that narrowed his eyes at him. "I'm not going to ask again, get back in the bed," the man said. Guards really weren't maid for these kind of positions. But the only person that could fill in for all the roles was gone, so... They were all losing here.
Myrddin stepped away, walking in one direction as he moved the crutches and his already healed leg. His arms were starting to hurt, but he didn't care. Because despite the fact that he was shaky, he was making process. His leg wasn't hurting as much as before and he had been able to move his hip more to make bigger steps. And with a breakthrough like that, he wasn't going to quit. The guard responsible for him, however, just about had it with his stubbornness. He walked up to the wounded man, looking up at him as he came all close. The Vylasar was forced to a halt due to this and let out a soft sound from his lips, clearly annoyed. The guard scoffed at him when he noticed. For a moment his eyes flared up at that sound, gritting his teeth as he saw how the man swallowed the words he was going to say to him. He wanted to punch him in the face, kick him. Because it hurt. It hurt to be back here where people only laughed at his weak attempts to be heard. "Alright, my lord, a good attempt b-"
The moment the guard placed his hands on his shoulder, Myrddin shoved him off him with as much force as he could put behind it. The other sighed loudly, unshaken by his weak attempt of getting the other away from him. "Just-" But Myrddin stepped forward shoving him again by pushing his chest against him, letting out another annoyed sound from his mouth. Loud and very sharp for his doing, almost as a child that didn't get his way. Although not being able to form words, he was still able to make sounds. And if all else fails, he would surely use it as a last resort. His second push had made the other become more unbalance than he already was and it was clear that the guard was getting annoyed to. As he raised his voice to speak, Myrddin followed by simply screaming at him with no real message behind it. Beside from anger, frustration and sadness for it all. He wanted to be left alone. He didn't want his hands on him anymore. He didn't need this man in his room anymore. It had been too long already.
The other was trying to speak, but the sorcerer simply yelled out, being louder than him and drowning out his words in that way. And it became clear that the man was getting very annoyed at the childish way the blonde was handling this. And in a rush of frustration, after Myrddin had tried to shove him again, the man reflected what he did. Pushing him back instead with a force that was clearly not intended for someone who could only use one leg. He lost balance in an instant, falling silent as he fell to the floor, his crutches still in both hands as he whimpered from the pain that rushed through his body. And for a moment, the guard seemed shocked that he had just done such thing. Perhaps even regretting what he had done. But the silence didn't remain as the Vylasar looked up, yelled through the pain and raised his good leg up a bit. As soon as the guard stepped closer in an attempt to help him, he gave him a kick. Where? Well, from the fact that he collapsed next to him, legs clearly weak and yelling out curse words; one could only imagine what price his feet had hit.
Angerily he stared at the man that had also fallen to the floor. He was clearly also in pain, but so was he. And frustrated as he was he yelled once more. He had done this a lot as a kid; screaming and yelling as if to try and speak. And it had been a while since he had acted like this, but he was pissed off and just about had it. Could he understand him now? Stay the fuck away from me.
And when he had been pushed once more when trying to practise his walking, he just about had it. Myrddin had been patient with them. By the Gods he had bit his tongue and had hold back his tears for all the hurt and pain they were causing him. But enough was enough. All he was trying to do was get better, learn to walk again with his new tools. He wanted to go, go outside and continue with his life. Because staying within this room, it would drive him crazy. And perhaps he already was. Because when his grey eyes focussed on the guard who had placed his hand on his chest, pushing him back, the man raised a brow. Tilting his head a bit, it was clear he didn't understand the expression of annoyance and anger that was written all over the blonde's face. He couldn't expect him to know how to read such things, as he already wasn't able to read his request that were put down on paper. You couldn't be more clearer than that. But alas, it would seem that even that was a huge task for these people. Shy would never disrespect him this way, Shy would never allow anyone to treat him this way. He
And well, he wasn't a pushover either. He never had been. He had always stood his ground when he was being treated as if he was the embodiment of useless human trash. The many tales of him lashing out in anger were one of the many things that were a result of it. It had been a while since he had felt such feelings boil up in his chest once more. And if he wasn't as weak as he was, there would have been a chance that he would have restored to actual physical violence. The guard was lucky that the tall captain wasn't doing so well right now. He was barely skin and bones at the point, much of his muscles having deteriorated due to him not properly eating and not keeping up with any training. And yet, there was still one thing he had that the other didn't. And that was his size. Despite still having one broken leg, Myrddin was still taller than most people when he stood up using his crutches. What it would bring to a fight when things escalated, however, was a completely different story. But as the man pushed him back again and he almost stumbled backwards, he could feel his blood start to boil. Using his crutches to keep himself upwards he looked at the man with eyes that were clear; you're done.
And he could simply write a letter or inform his mother about this behaviour. But that rational kind of thinking didn't pass his mind. "I've told you already, I'm not watching you stumble around for another hour, get back in the bed," It was clear they didn't even want him to practice, which in many ways was logical. If he fell, they had to get the healers. If something happened, they had to do extra work. They had to assist him if he got stuck, if he wanted something. It were all risks and in many ways they also followed orders that were given to them. The blonde man was an over worker, always had been. And pushing himself to learn to walk again, straining his body in the process, well... That wasn't a real surprising sight. But they didn't tell him that. All they did was push him back when he didn't listen, like they had done now. And when he tried to ask them for something, they ignored him. He was done with that. He pushed himself more upwards, looking down at the man that narrowed his eyes at him. "I'm not going to ask again, get back in the bed," the man said. Guards really weren't maid for these kind of positions. But the only person that could fill in for all the roles was gone, so... They were all losing here.
Myrddin stepped away, walking in one direction as he moved the crutches and his already healed leg. His arms were starting to hurt, but he didn't care. Because despite the fact that he was shaky, he was making process. His leg wasn't hurting as much as before and he had been able to move his hip more to make bigger steps. And with a breakthrough like that, he wasn't going to quit. The guard responsible for him, however, just about had it with his stubbornness. He walked up to the wounded man, looking up at him as he came all close. The Vylasar was forced to a halt due to this and let out a soft sound from his lips, clearly annoyed. The guard scoffed at him when he noticed. For a moment his eyes flared up at that sound, gritting his teeth as he saw how the man swallowed the words he was going to say to him. He wanted to punch him in the face, kick him. Because it hurt. It hurt to be back here where people only laughed at his weak attempts to be heard. "Alright, my lord, a good attempt b-"
The moment the guard placed his hands on his shoulder, Myrddin shoved him off him with as much force as he could put behind it. The other sighed loudly, unshaken by his weak attempt of getting the other away from him. "Just-" But Myrddin stepped forward shoving him again by pushing his chest against him, letting out another annoyed sound from his mouth. Loud and very sharp for his doing, almost as a child that didn't get his way. Although not being able to form words, he was still able to make sounds. And if all else fails, he would surely use it as a last resort. His second push had made the other become more unbalance than he already was and it was clear that the guard was getting annoyed to. As he raised his voice to speak, Myrddin followed by simply screaming at him with no real message behind it. Beside from anger, frustration and sadness for it all. He wanted to be left alone. He didn't want his hands on him anymore. He didn't need this man in his room anymore. It had been too long already.
The other was trying to speak, but the sorcerer simply yelled out, being louder than him and drowning out his words in that way. And it became clear that the man was getting very annoyed at the childish way the blonde was handling this. And in a rush of frustration, after Myrddin had tried to shove him again, the man reflected what he did. Pushing him back instead with a force that was clearly not intended for someone who could only use one leg. He lost balance in an instant, falling silent as he fell to the floor, his crutches still in both hands as he whimpered from the pain that rushed through his body. And for a moment, the guard seemed shocked that he had just done such thing. Perhaps even regretting what he had done. But the silence didn't remain as the Vylasar looked up, yelled through the pain and raised his good leg up a bit. As soon as the guard stepped closer in an attempt to help him, he gave him a kick. Where? Well, from the fact that he collapsed next to him, legs clearly weak and yelling out curse words; one could only imagine what price his feet had hit.
Angerily he stared at the man that had also fallen to the floor. He was clearly also in pain, but so was he. And frustrated as he was he yelled once more. He had done this a lot as a kid; screaming and yelling as if to try and speak. And it had been a while since he had acted like this, but he was pissed off and just about had it. Could he understand him now? Stay the fuck away from me.
Sat May 06, 2023 2:03 pm
Posts
IC Posts
Lemuria Citizen
Ezekiel Vylasar
- Rens336298
some children are simplyborn with tragedy in their blood
The days had started to merge into one another. Some nights he was awake all night, so he slept through the day. He had been present at where he had to be, and further he had more or less become a ghost of the castle. He felt lost, without purpose, as he did not know what his place was after being locked up in their own castle towers. It was humiliating. All he could think about those days were clouded with anger and guilt, and now he was out, he circled around in this limbo. He felt like there were eyes on him every corner he took. He almost didn't dare to leave castle ground.
But he had grown sick and tired of dawdling around without purpose. So he had dressed himself with casual training garments and had went down the courtyard, passed all the pretty gardens and buildings and went to the barracks to be reunited with his sword and squad. He had let them be for far too long, and they probably had moved on without him. He may be leader only in title, because he was just a boy compared to some of the veteran guards. But he usually let young, teenage boys join his squad, those who had no home or coin to their names. Just to keep them from the streets, even if they had no build or training to ever keep a sword upright for a long time. Some of the boys made it, most didn't. But at least he had tried to give them a proper chance. Ezekiel wasn't much a good example himself. But the boys often stood up for him, or made excuses for him. So it was long overdue to meet up with them.
And it had been joyous. Most of them were out working in the city, but the few that were at ease or training, had been ever so forgiving. They shared a few drinks as they talked him back up to speed, and he told about what had happened - leaving out most of the details. But it felt relieving to be normal for a while again. After talking for a while, he picked up his sword and sparred with some of the younger boys for a while. He had been slow and a bit stiff the whole session, but the movements came back as muscle memory took over.
When he returned to the castle, he felt much more achieved in a few days. It had been great to just empty his head from all his troubles. It was so much simpler, and as he had done so often, how he had wished for a simpler life. They could strip him of all his titles and magic. But no, they couldn't, because how bad he would screw up, everything for the family.
He ran his hands through his hair as he walk trough the halls back to his chambers. He felt at peace, for a second, but he couldn't help feel a shadow of dread following him. As if something bad could happen any minute. And it was like by thinking it, he had jinxed it. He heard a sudden, shrill scream echo through the halls. It didn't take long to recognize it. Only one person could create such a piercing sound. And before he knew it, Ezekiel was running. He skidded down the polished stone, making his way to the infirmary. It was like they were kids again, ready to fight whatever Myr was fighting. He hadn't been with him after their talk, after he had spend days in the prison. It was to embarrassing to look him in the eye after all that had happened. And even if they had buried the hatched, things seemed to be forgiven. Just one look at Myr's hurt body, and he was reminded to the shameful things he had done.
When he slammed through the door, he found two men splayed out on the ground. Myr on his back, the guard that was supposed to protect him bend over, clutching to the source of his obvious pain. Ezekiel glanced at his cousin for a quick moment. Really?, his expression seemed to ask, but the silver-haired sorcerer did not wait for answers at this point. He could deduce enough for what had happened. Some kind of struggle, he had no idea who started to fight, but a guard raising a hand against golden boy? That sure must be one quick way to get fired. Or worse.
He placed his hands roughly at the shoulders of the man that had been hit in the plums. His fingers clutched around fabric of his uniform as he heaved the man back on his feet. ‘‘You just made a big mistake, buddy,’’ he hissed between his teeth. The guard was bigger than he was: broader and taller. But Ezekiel was a boy quick to anger. This man had lost his damn mind. He heard the man trying to raise his voice, but the young Vylasar didn't care. He shoved his in his back as he tried to herd him back towards the door. The man still could barely walk, which would be funny if Myr had not been on the floor as well. Every time he opened his mouth to argue, Ezekiel wordlessly pushed on. And when the man made one last effort to raise his voice, Ezekiel kicked him straight in his lower back for the last few inches out of the door. With a slam he closed it behind him as he heard the man gasp for air.
As he turned around, he wiped his hands over his shirt as if only touching the man had soiled him. His gaze softened slightly as he looked over to his cousin. He felt the guilt creep back up to him, like it was second nature, seeing him so helplessly. It was his fault he could not defend himself as well anymore. Although, he was doing a pretty good job before. ‘‘You ok?’’ the youngest of the two breathed heavily. Adrenaline was still rushing through his veins, but he quickly looked away as he kept lingering by the door for a second. Then he made a decision and walked towards the blonde and went on his haunches beside him, his eyes darting over the crutches beside him. ‘‘Let's get you up.’’ He moved more towards his back, ready to place his hands underneath his armpits to get him back on his feet.
But he had grown sick and tired of dawdling around without purpose. So he had dressed himself with casual training garments and had went down the courtyard, passed all the pretty gardens and buildings and went to the barracks to be reunited with his sword and squad. He had let them be for far too long, and they probably had moved on without him. He may be leader only in title, because he was just a boy compared to some of the veteran guards. But he usually let young, teenage boys join his squad, those who had no home or coin to their names. Just to keep them from the streets, even if they had no build or training to ever keep a sword upright for a long time. Some of the boys made it, most didn't. But at least he had tried to give them a proper chance. Ezekiel wasn't much a good example himself. But the boys often stood up for him, or made excuses for him. So it was long overdue to meet up with them.
And it had been joyous. Most of them were out working in the city, but the few that were at ease or training, had been ever so forgiving. They shared a few drinks as they talked him back up to speed, and he told about what had happened - leaving out most of the details. But it felt relieving to be normal for a while again. After talking for a while, he picked up his sword and sparred with some of the younger boys for a while. He had been slow and a bit stiff the whole session, but the movements came back as muscle memory took over.
When he returned to the castle, he felt much more achieved in a few days. It had been great to just empty his head from all his troubles. It was so much simpler, and as he had done so often, how he had wished for a simpler life. They could strip him of all his titles and magic. But no, they couldn't, because how bad he would screw up, everything for the family.
He ran his hands through his hair as he walk trough the halls back to his chambers. He felt at peace, for a second, but he couldn't help feel a shadow of dread following him. As if something bad could happen any minute. And it was like by thinking it, he had jinxed it. He heard a sudden, shrill scream echo through the halls. It didn't take long to recognize it. Only one person could create such a piercing sound. And before he knew it, Ezekiel was running. He skidded down the polished stone, making his way to the infirmary. It was like they were kids again, ready to fight whatever Myr was fighting. He hadn't been with him after their talk, after he had spend days in the prison. It was to embarrassing to look him in the eye after all that had happened. And even if they had buried the hatched, things seemed to be forgiven. Just one look at Myr's hurt body, and he was reminded to the shameful things he had done.
When he slammed through the door, he found two men splayed out on the ground. Myr on his back, the guard that was supposed to protect him bend over, clutching to the source of his obvious pain. Ezekiel glanced at his cousin for a quick moment. Really?, his expression seemed to ask, but the silver-haired sorcerer did not wait for answers at this point. He could deduce enough for what had happened. Some kind of struggle, he had no idea who started to fight, but a guard raising a hand against golden boy? That sure must be one quick way to get fired. Or worse.
He placed his hands roughly at the shoulders of the man that had been hit in the plums. His fingers clutched around fabric of his uniform as he heaved the man back on his feet. ‘‘You just made a big mistake, buddy,’’ he hissed between his teeth. The guard was bigger than he was: broader and taller. But Ezekiel was a boy quick to anger. This man had lost his damn mind. He heard the man trying to raise his voice, but the young Vylasar didn't care. He shoved his in his back as he tried to herd him back towards the door. The man still could barely walk, which would be funny if Myr had not been on the floor as well. Every time he opened his mouth to argue, Ezekiel wordlessly pushed on. And when the man made one last effort to raise his voice, Ezekiel kicked him straight in his lower back for the last few inches out of the door. With a slam he closed it behind him as he heard the man gasp for air.
As he turned around, he wiped his hands over his shirt as if only touching the man had soiled him. His gaze softened slightly as he looked over to his cousin. He felt the guilt creep back up to him, like it was second nature, seeing him so helplessly. It was his fault he could not defend himself as well anymore. Although, he was doing a pretty good job before. ‘‘You ok?’’ the youngest of the two breathed heavily. Adrenaline was still rushing through his veins, but he quickly looked away as he kept lingering by the door for a second. Then he made a decision and walked towards the blonde and went on his haunches beside him, his eyes darting over the crutches beside him. ‘‘Let's get you up.’’ He moved more towards his back, ready to place his hands underneath his armpits to get him back on his feet.
Thu May 11, 2023 12:39 am
Posts
IC Posts
Deceased
Myrddin Vylasar
- Jaz228215
❝ Maybe I wasn't made for this world ❞
With heavy panting he was able to scream out every now and then. Not really high in tone, they were lower and less loud than earlier as he kept looking at the man that had tried to lay his hands on him more than once. It was more akin to a yelling at this point. Where misshapen sounds and tones intertwined with one another, not making any sense to anyone. And in that moment, he felt like that little kid again. Small and weak, useless... He had yelled out so much in the past. Every time when he got angry or every time when he didn't get his way. At first, when he was really small, people didn't mind as much. As toddlers usually did those kind of things. But as life went on and he continued to yell out with such emotions and sounds, he would often get corrected. In many ways understandable, in others... It had done quite the damage. As at the years had gone by, he had fallen completely silent. Only really letting out frustrated screams when things got too much, like today. Playful giggles or genuine smiles were never heard from him, really. He had learned from such a young age what a disgrace that part of him was. And he had silenced it, until now.
When the door swung open he turned his head. His yelling dying down somewhat as his volume stabilized. He fell silent for a split second when he saw who it was. He blinked slowly, before mumbling some annoyed sounds under his breath. His eyes darting back to the man that was crying for his lost seed. Damn idiot shouldn't have tried his luck with him. Even though he was extremely weak, having lost considerable weight, he wouldn't back down from this. His kick had been dirty, but it had been his only defense against this fool. And in any other situation he would feel bad for doing something like this. But right now he didn't feel any pity for the guy. He had lost so much respect for the men who were supposed to care for him. The blonde clenched his jaw, letting out a slight deeper sound that seemed to come close to a sort of growl. He didn't shut up, he was upset and frustrated and if he wasn't so out of breath and in so much pain, he would crawl over to him and beat him up himself. He would teach him a lesson never to touch him again, never to test him again. He had been through enough already. And he had about enough from all of it.
Ezekiel had already made plans for the guard as he clenched onto his uniform and pulled him up. The words his brother spoke made the sorcerer finally fall silent as he took deep breaths. Pain rushing from his leg and abdomen upwards to his spine. He let out a silent whimper once more, closing his eyes as he leaned back. He could hear the slight scuffle that was unfolding in the room, but even that was short lived. Words were cut off, mostly coming from the guard. And before he knew it, the sound of a slamming door echoed through the chamber. Myrddin opened his grey eyes slowly as soon as he heard that. His gaze fixated on the ceiling above him. The pain that he felt was getting a bit worse, but he knew that it would settle down eventually. So all he did was stare up at that blank canvas above him. His brain slowly mulling over things... Such as... How nice it would be if he painted that boring white ceiling. A scene of flowers, or perhaps even the ocean floor he had sketched before. He sighed softly, placing a hand against his face as he slowly rubbed it. It was ok... He was ok.
A voice asking if he was ok. His hand moved downwards remaining on his chest for just a moment. His heart was racing, he could feel that. Thumping against his chest as if he had just run a marathon. But he knew it was a mixture between shock, pain, anger and just a general overwhelming feeling of emotions that drove it to beat so rapidly. Myrddin didn't know what to say at first, doubting if he should simply lie and state that he was okay. Shutting himself off from the world, and him, once more. But as soon as he raised his hand a bit to give him a thumbs up, he froze. Had he not promised to not do this again? To not act like everything was ok, when clearly they were not...? His hand hovered above him, as he stared at it, contemplating what sign he should make. And after a few seconds, his hand went back down. A soft humming sound leaving his throat as he closed his eyes. He opened his mouth slightly, putting his arms beside him as he pushed himself up, so he no longer laid down completely, but somewhat sat upwards. It was still a struggle, and he needed his arms to keep himself like this. He sighed softly, shaking his head a bit as he let out a more annoyed tone. The way he spoke was more calm than before, but the frustration was still there.
His brother came closer and the heir followed him with his eyes, until he squatted down next to him. Myrddin closed his mouth a bit, still panting ever so slightly from the encounter. His focus on the ground in front of the other instead of him really. He really hated this feeling, this feeling of helplessness. He felt as if he was back to square one, as if all his years of work had been for nothing as the days slowly degraded him back to how he was before he had drilled that strict mentality in his head. He was getting weak. Or... It was more like he no longer had a way to cover up how weak he really was. And he hated it, he hated it so much. The silver haired man spoke and all he did was nod. His let his eyes go to his hands as he grabbed his crutches one at a time, pulling back his good leg as he took a deep breath. Eventually, when he was ready to get back up, he let it be known with a nod. And before he knew it, the other placed his hands on his body and lifted him up. The blonde using his recently healed leg to push himself even up more. But beside the fact that he was tall, he wasn't really heavy. And even though it did cross his mind that Ezekiel would definitely take notice of that, he quickly shrugged it off. But it lingered in the back of his mind. If that didn't scream weakness, he didn't know what did. And oh boy, it made him even more frustrated than he already was.
So when he was back on his feet he quickly moved himself away from the other, maybe a bit harsh in the way he moved. He let his head hang a bit as he slowly moved back to his bed, sitting back down on the edge of it as soon as he could. He was already almost out of breath again. It was clear he was getting out of shape. Which, in a way, was his own fault. For the past few weeks he hadn't properly taken care of himself. Mostly being lost in his own head most of the day. And there had been little to distract him. It had already been so difficult when Shy was around. And now that he wasn't, he was completely collapsing in on himself. The blond put his crutches to the side after he resisted the urge to throw them through the room. If he did that, he would have no way of moving around anymore. A rational thought between the anger that was stirring in his head. His grey eyes moved to the other for a moment. Surely he had just come because he had heard him yelling. Because something in him told him he wasn't on his way to visit him. The man hadn't visited him since their talk. He had been on his own for weeks now. Only seeing these four walls and the same annoying guards that pushed him around. If he didn't know any better he could swear that he was going crazy once more.
He looked over him. And he looked good. Unchanged, as if nothing had happened. And it didn't surprise him, as the odd eyed man was infamous for how stoic and stubborn he was. Myrddin clenched his jaw, not really knowing what to say. He wanted to know where Shy was and he wanted to know what had happened out there for the past weeks. Yet, the anger that was in his head didn't allow him to. He frowned slowly, looking down at the floor below him as his eyes went to his broken leg. It was still being held together by a mismatch of textures and stuff to keep the broken thing straight so it could heal properly. He nodded slightly, raising a hand as he started to sign. 'I want him fired,' as if that wasn't obvious yet.
When the door swung open he turned his head. His yelling dying down somewhat as his volume stabilized. He fell silent for a split second when he saw who it was. He blinked slowly, before mumbling some annoyed sounds under his breath. His eyes darting back to the man that was crying for his lost seed. Damn idiot shouldn't have tried his luck with him. Even though he was extremely weak, having lost considerable weight, he wouldn't back down from this. His kick had been dirty, but it had been his only defense against this fool. And in any other situation he would feel bad for doing something like this. But right now he didn't feel any pity for the guy. He had lost so much respect for the men who were supposed to care for him. The blonde clenched his jaw, letting out a slight deeper sound that seemed to come close to a sort of growl. He didn't shut up, he was upset and frustrated and if he wasn't so out of breath and in so much pain, he would crawl over to him and beat him up himself. He would teach him a lesson never to touch him again, never to test him again. He had been through enough already. And he had about enough from all of it.
Ezekiel had already made plans for the guard as he clenched onto his uniform and pulled him up. The words his brother spoke made the sorcerer finally fall silent as he took deep breaths. Pain rushing from his leg and abdomen upwards to his spine. He let out a silent whimper once more, closing his eyes as he leaned back. He could hear the slight scuffle that was unfolding in the room, but even that was short lived. Words were cut off, mostly coming from the guard. And before he knew it, the sound of a slamming door echoed through the chamber. Myrddin opened his grey eyes slowly as soon as he heard that. His gaze fixated on the ceiling above him. The pain that he felt was getting a bit worse, but he knew that it would settle down eventually. So all he did was stare up at that blank canvas above him. His brain slowly mulling over things... Such as... How nice it would be if he painted that boring white ceiling. A scene of flowers, or perhaps even the ocean floor he had sketched before. He sighed softly, placing a hand against his face as he slowly rubbed it. It was ok... He was ok.
A voice asking if he was ok. His hand moved downwards remaining on his chest for just a moment. His heart was racing, he could feel that. Thumping against his chest as if he had just run a marathon. But he knew it was a mixture between shock, pain, anger and just a general overwhelming feeling of emotions that drove it to beat so rapidly. Myrddin didn't know what to say at first, doubting if he should simply lie and state that he was okay. Shutting himself off from the world, and him, once more. But as soon as he raised his hand a bit to give him a thumbs up, he froze. Had he not promised to not do this again? To not act like everything was ok, when clearly they were not...? His hand hovered above him, as he stared at it, contemplating what sign he should make. And after a few seconds, his hand went back down. A soft humming sound leaving his throat as he closed his eyes. He opened his mouth slightly, putting his arms beside him as he pushed himself up, so he no longer laid down completely, but somewhat sat upwards. It was still a struggle, and he needed his arms to keep himself like this. He sighed softly, shaking his head a bit as he let out a more annoyed tone. The way he spoke was more calm than before, but the frustration was still there.
His brother came closer and the heir followed him with his eyes, until he squatted down next to him. Myrddin closed his mouth a bit, still panting ever so slightly from the encounter. His focus on the ground in front of the other instead of him really. He really hated this feeling, this feeling of helplessness. He felt as if he was back to square one, as if all his years of work had been for nothing as the days slowly degraded him back to how he was before he had drilled that strict mentality in his head. He was getting weak. Or... It was more like he no longer had a way to cover up how weak he really was. And he hated it, he hated it so much. The silver haired man spoke and all he did was nod. His let his eyes go to his hands as he grabbed his crutches one at a time, pulling back his good leg as he took a deep breath. Eventually, when he was ready to get back up, he let it be known with a nod. And before he knew it, the other placed his hands on his body and lifted him up. The blonde using his recently healed leg to push himself even up more. But beside the fact that he was tall, he wasn't really heavy. And even though it did cross his mind that Ezekiel would definitely take notice of that, he quickly shrugged it off. But it lingered in the back of his mind. If that didn't scream weakness, he didn't know what did. And oh boy, it made him even more frustrated than he already was.
So when he was back on his feet he quickly moved himself away from the other, maybe a bit harsh in the way he moved. He let his head hang a bit as he slowly moved back to his bed, sitting back down on the edge of it as soon as he could. He was already almost out of breath again. It was clear he was getting out of shape. Which, in a way, was his own fault. For the past few weeks he hadn't properly taken care of himself. Mostly being lost in his own head most of the day. And there had been little to distract him. It had already been so difficult when Shy was around. And now that he wasn't, he was completely collapsing in on himself. The blond put his crutches to the side after he resisted the urge to throw them through the room. If he did that, he would have no way of moving around anymore. A rational thought between the anger that was stirring in his head. His grey eyes moved to the other for a moment. Surely he had just come because he had heard him yelling. Because something in him told him he wasn't on his way to visit him. The man hadn't visited him since their talk. He had been on his own for weeks now. Only seeing these four walls and the same annoying guards that pushed him around. If he didn't know any better he could swear that he was going crazy once more.
He looked over him. And he looked good. Unchanged, as if nothing had happened. And it didn't surprise him, as the odd eyed man was infamous for how stoic and stubborn he was. Myrddin clenched his jaw, not really knowing what to say. He wanted to know where Shy was and he wanted to know what had happened out there for the past weeks. Yet, the anger that was in his head didn't allow him to. He frowned slowly, looking down at the floor below him as his eyes went to his broken leg. It was still being held together by a mismatch of textures and stuff to keep the broken thing straight so it could heal properly. He nodded slightly, raising a hand as he started to sign. 'I want him fired,' as if that wasn't obvious yet.
Mon May 15, 2023 12:11 pm
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Lemuria Citizen
Ezekiel Vylasar
- Rens336298
some children are simplyborn with tragedy in their blood
It was as if the world had spun backwards and they had gone back in time. He remembered countless of times that Myrddin would lash out in frustration when he could not express himself properly. The screes he would produce, it could make your ear drums tremble. But Ezekiel would watch from a distance and when the adults had given up, he had come to take his cousin's hand and they would figure out a new set of signs. It was funny that he was the first one to be able to speak with his cousin, with him being able to immediately say back what he needed to. But as time went on and Myr had found a different voice, Ezekiel's help had become redundant. Myr could stand on his own legs now. And he had been so happy for him then. Life had become almost normal. But even youthful bliss and naivety could turn sour. He sometimes wondered what would have happened if they had never been separated. If they would still be friends then.
Ezekiel went on his haunches next to his cousin, being in perfect balance when he stayed put. He saw him struggle, clearly in pain. Oh, how he must have suffered these past days.. weeks? How long had it been? Sometimes Ezekiel still thought he would find blood underneath his nails or find some piece of evidence of that night. He could not stay in the courtyard for long, before thinking what he had done. He felt so bad about it, that he just avoided it all together. He would not speak about it, nor would he visit Myr that often. He had time enough to think about it in prison. Yes, he was to blame. It was good this way. He never wanted to summon again anyway. He would marry Chaska, wipe that target of his back and live his merry life. But probably kicking a guard wouldn't help with that.
Ezekiel was surprised he showed, even if it was for a tiny gesture, that he was not completely fine. Well, it would be an obvious lie anyway. How would he ever gotten back up on his own? He guessed Myr would figure it out eventually, with his stubborn mind and eagerness to prove himself. But it would be a struggle, that would probably not be in favour of him healing quickly. And fighting with a guard also probably would hurt him more in the progress. Ezekiel decided to not say anything about that, just come closer to wait for Myr to respond. It was fairly easy to get him back on his feet as he helped him up. Myr definitely had lost a significant amount of weight. He knew most of it would be down to him losing muscle, but still. So when he limped back to his bed, Ezekiel tried to support him. But his cousin seemed determined and Ezekiel was left standing on the spot, looking towards this version of Myr he hadn't seen in a very long time.
Ezekiel crossed his arms and pressed his lips together, suddenly feeling left very tiny in this empty room. His eyes slid over the walls, through the windows with that dreary view of castle ground gardens. He knew they should be happy to be living in a literal castle, a building that used to house kings and queens, but he missed the place he grew up in. When he heard fabric shifting, he looked back at his cousin who was signing at him. The corners of the mouth of the silver-haired man curled up shortly. ‘‘Consider it done,’’ he promised. He might be an employee in his aunt's household, he was still a Vylasar. He could pull a few strings. Or he could just talk to the man in person and make clear that it would be stupid to ever return to this place.
The sorcerer pulled up his shoulders slightly as he looked over to Myrddin's small frame. So after a while the younger of the two cocked his head back slightly. ‘‘Have you eaten yet?’’ He knew Myr would read through the lines in an instant, but Ezekiel would act like he didn't know. He was worried about him. The worry and guilt made him a whole kind of mess that didn't know to act with the person that knew him best.
Ezekiel went on his haunches next to his cousin, being in perfect balance when he stayed put. He saw him struggle, clearly in pain. Oh, how he must have suffered these past days.. weeks? How long had it been? Sometimes Ezekiel still thought he would find blood underneath his nails or find some piece of evidence of that night. He could not stay in the courtyard for long, before thinking what he had done. He felt so bad about it, that he just avoided it all together. He would not speak about it, nor would he visit Myr that often. He had time enough to think about it in prison. Yes, he was to blame. It was good this way. He never wanted to summon again anyway. He would marry Chaska, wipe that target of his back and live his merry life. But probably kicking a guard wouldn't help with that.
Ezekiel was surprised he showed, even if it was for a tiny gesture, that he was not completely fine. Well, it would be an obvious lie anyway. How would he ever gotten back up on his own? He guessed Myr would figure it out eventually, with his stubborn mind and eagerness to prove himself. But it would be a struggle, that would probably not be in favour of him healing quickly. And fighting with a guard also probably would hurt him more in the progress. Ezekiel decided to not say anything about that, just come closer to wait for Myr to respond. It was fairly easy to get him back on his feet as he helped him up. Myr definitely had lost a significant amount of weight. He knew most of it would be down to him losing muscle, but still. So when he limped back to his bed, Ezekiel tried to support him. But his cousin seemed determined and Ezekiel was left standing on the spot, looking towards this version of Myr he hadn't seen in a very long time.
Ezekiel crossed his arms and pressed his lips together, suddenly feeling left very tiny in this empty room. His eyes slid over the walls, through the windows with that dreary view of castle ground gardens. He knew they should be happy to be living in a literal castle, a building that used to house kings and queens, but he missed the place he grew up in. When he heard fabric shifting, he looked back at his cousin who was signing at him. The corners of the mouth of the silver-haired man curled up shortly. ‘‘Consider it done,’’ he promised. He might be an employee in his aunt's household, he was still a Vylasar. He could pull a few strings. Or he could just talk to the man in person and make clear that it would be stupid to ever return to this place.
The sorcerer pulled up his shoulders slightly as he looked over to Myrddin's small frame. So after a while the younger of the two cocked his head back slightly. ‘‘Have you eaten yet?’’ He knew Myr would read through the lines in an instant, but Ezekiel would act like he didn't know. He was worried about him. The worry and guilt made him a whole kind of mess that didn't know to act with the person that knew him best.
Sun May 28, 2023 11:24 pm
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