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Post by Dylan Cooper on Nov 21, 2007 19:47:45 GMT -5
His mind vaguely aware of their continued conversation, Dylan considered a patronus to be a lot faster than an owl. It appeared that, eventually, D’rorah did too. As she commented on his need for the utmost reservation of energy, he would have liked to have argued; but he knew she was right, however much he himself wished to send the patronus to his mother. He knew that, not only would she not be happy about receiving one with Dee’s voice attached, but that she would worry extensively until she got here, thinking him completely incapacitated due to his lack of ability to produce a messenger patronus. He knew then that both of the couple’s minds resided on their last encounter with his mother, and he felt immensely regretful that things stood as they did between two women who were, afterall, the most important people in his life.
Watching as she attempted and failed to conjure her silvery companion, Dylan frowned ever-so-slightly. It was not like Dee to fail at something so easily, but then again, he realised, he couldn’t recall a single time that he’d witnessed her perform any advanced magic. Sighting her expression, he knew the self-same look might very well have adorned his face upon his numerous failed attempts when trying so desperately to summon his own patronus, had he not been so worried at the time that his energy would give out and leave him to lie alone for another few days. Unfortunately, his hearing had not been the best of late, and he missed whatever it was that she muttered under her breath. He assumed it was nothing too pleasant, however, and let it go at that.
Seeing her patronus for the first time, he felt only a little bit surprised as it appeared in the form of a gryphon. Ancient and divine as it was, it was also renowned for being monogamous, something which caused a very light, very subtle smile to rise onto his features. For the first time since the attack, his eyes were lit as he admired the fine creature and everything it represented for him. Knowing that this was the form her patronus took, surprisingly, set him quite at ease. Rather sad to see it depart the Hospital Wing via the nearest wall, he turned his attention to Alessandro.
He appeared to be staring intently at something out of the window; something which he himself could not see from his position upon the bed. Figuring it was unimportant, he waited for a response to D’rorah’s question. As he waited with bated breath, for he thought the answer might be quite important, Dylan thought ahead to when his mother would arrive. They still had the time it would take for her to ascend the sloping grass of the Hogwarts grounds and reach the Hospital Wing, and he pondered the idea that perhaps his mother would like to see him alone. Hoping that would not be the case, he wondered what he might do if it were. He did not, by any means, wish for D’rorah to leave, nor to feel like she had to. On the other hand, he didn’t want to force her to stay should Astraeus wish her to exeunt. Such a thing would probably only serve to increase what tension was already bound to be contained within the room. He didn’t want to anger his mother; she was still very much an important part of his life and he wanted their good relationship to continue. He did, however, want her to become accustomed to the presence of D’rorah, because he would not stop seeing her, no matter his mother’s opinion on the matter. For the first time since Darius had died, Dylan was happy. Perhaps not right now, given the circumstances, but he could only begin to imagine how much worse off he would be without Dee to help support him through this. And he remembered well, knew exactly how happy she made him inside with the amount of love she so clearly felt for him. His light smile broadening slightly, he lifted a hand toward her in an indication that he wished to slip it into her own.
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Post by Alessandro Darko on Nov 27, 2007 14:09:28 GMT -5
D'rorah began to cast her patronus. Alessandro was shocked to find that her first attempt had faultered. He figured that under the circumstances of what had happened lately to her significant other, the anger and stress of it all had blocked her first attempt. He watched her second try produce an elegant, slivery Gryphon. He noticed that she just seemed to be mentally communicating with her patronus, instead of giving verbal commands, and then it was off. Her question did not catch him off guard, but instilled a quick beat of his heart and a shallow breath. He nodded and prepared to explain as he had actually wanted to talk to her about the subject.
"Premonitions..." He said again, eyebrows raising. "D'rorah...lately I've been recieving visions....they come to me in a variety of ways, in my sleep, in a daydream...sometimes I don't know that I'm having one...they can catch me off guard." He began, looking from Dylan to D'rorah as he spoke. He took a breath before he asked D'rorah his question. "Do you think that I might be able to somehow force myself to get a vision? Maybe I could help figure out the identity of the person who did this to Dylan..." he asked in a low voice, careful not to let his voice carry far from where the three were stationed. His gaze drifted up to meet D'rorah's eyes, hoping that she would have some sort of positive answer. He figured that if anyone knew, a skilled telepath, the very person who taught him how to mentally defend his mind would know.
He looked at Dylan, feeling remorse intermixed with anger as he contemplated who, other than Gat, would possess such evil in their heart to perform such terrible deeds upon a fellow student. He felt hot inside, a fiery feeling flaring up in his chest, prompting him to rub the heel of his palm over his sternum.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Nov 27, 2007 21:43:53 GMT -5
D'rorah slipped her hand in Dylan's at his unspoken request. Her face reciprocated with a smile, happy to see some light in his eyes once again. Just as she was musing over that thought, Alessandro began to reply to her question about his premonition. She listened intently to him.
Intrigued, she considered his words for several minutes. "Certainly, very powerful seers are known to exercise their talents on demand. Some would argue that it is impossible to force the experience, that such premonitions are actually the human mind intercepting information which is only available to certain people." She waved her free hand dismissively. "Though, there are also those who believe the ability is purely internal. Do you recall any uniting factor when you have previously had these premonitions? An action you were performing, something you were thinking of, even something as simple as an odor which was present at different times when you have had premonitions? I am certain it would be possible to train your mind... either to internally have these premonitions more often or to tap into whatever external force causes them."
She frowned slightly. "As far as finding out who attacked Mister Cooper... is it possible to have a premonition about the past? Technically, the word premonition means seeing something before it happens. If we are able to develop the ability to see things on demand, it will likely be far more difficult to change the direction in which the events move at will." She tilted her head, regarding Alessandro. "Though, it would certainly be worth the attempt... it could prove immensely useful."
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Nov 27, 2007 22:26:53 GMT -5
Feeling her hand slip into his, he felt slightly better as Alessandro began speaking. A brief hope had sparked within him that perhaps his dormmate was right, perhaps he could somehow figure out who had done this to him. Deep down, however, he held no hope whatsoever. That part of him told him that it was useless, that the identity of his attacker could not be determined; not when they were obviously so undercover about their true nature. Yet another part of him conflicted with this severe lack of optimism, presumably brought about by the wounds he had received and his mentality in the days following the incident. Even if Darko’s idea did not, could not, work, there were other ways. He still had a list, it was not very narrow, but he had starting points. The slightest falter from whomever had committed this crime against his body, and they would be revealed. His pessimistic side, however, debated that this person was smart; too smart to be revealed by such a stupid little thing that would be ideal for identification.
To add to his current confusion and feelings of hopelessness and overwhelming stress, was another part of him, saying something different. Perhaps his pessimism was derived from a desire to never know who had done this. While, in theory, he should want it more than anything, want them brought to justice, want to know who he could not trust, there was something so alluring about never knowing the truth. That way, perhaps he would never have to face this again. In finding out, maybe this person, who obviously had no problem in torturing him so drastically, would attempt to silence him. No, it was much simpler if he remained in the dark, right?
Catching Darko’s eye, he saw the feelings behind his gaze. Unable to maintain that contact, he cast his own eyes downward, to the hand within his own. Noting her use of the term ‘Mister Cooper’, he wondered why she had used it now, of all times. It was not like she had to hide their relationship from Alessandro, or were in any other manner. They were holding hands, for god’s sake. A deep-set insecurity welled up within him, telling him that D’rorah did not love him. But no, it could not be true. The feeling continued to build inside of him, threatening to break loose at any moment. Tensing his jaw in a hopeless frustration as the thoughts within his mind and feelings within his body began to overwhelm him, the expression on his face presented his exact turmoil. He did not have the energy to put up a visage, at this point in time.
None of this was helped, however, upon the entrance of his mother. Hearing a sharp inhalation and exclamation coming from the direction of the double doors, he raised his head slowly. His eyes found a sight that they rather dreaded. His mother, looking hurried and slightly unkempt, presumably from her rushed departure from home and ensuing trip to visit him, had a dreadful look on her face.
Appearing shocked and worried, she rushed forward to be at his bedside. “Dylan, oh my god… What happened? Are you alright?” Her voice was bordering on hysteria as she viewed her damaged son. Flustered and panicking a small amount, she opened her mouth to speak several times with no words coming out. She stopped, however, when she noticed a hand within her sons as she attempted to take it in her own. Following the arm, she found D’rorah. “You…” she said, her tone inflecting her very feelings for the girl.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Nov 28, 2007 0:00:58 GMT -5
D'rorah arched an eyebrow at Astraeus' dramatic entrance, keeping any comments she might have had in mind to herself. However, upon hearing herself addressed as 'you', she could not hold her tongue. "Yes, I, Ms. Cooper. Typically, I prefer not to be addressed with harshly toned second person pronouns. My name was and is D'rorah Philosophy."
She squeezed Dylan's hand lightly, but more for her own assurance than his. "I have seen to contacting you, upon learning that you had not yet been contacted. I assumed you would care to hear first hand of your son's condition." Her eyes darkened slightly as she felt anger building within her. Here she had done everything within her power to ease Dylan's stay in the infirmary and had even been the one to make certain Astraeus had been contacted, and was being directly challenged not thirty seconds after the woman had walked through the door.
Further irritating was that, though she had actually saved Dylan's life when his foster brother had attacked them in Alconbury, and and gone on to see to his treatment and recovery, she had been chased from the house like a miscreant. She really wasn't sure she cared for Astraeus' penchant for jumping to conclusions about her, not at all. That thought was enough to make her step in just a bit closer her, her voice raised the slightest fraction over her normal volume level. "If you have some problem with me, Astraeus Cooper, I suggest you speak it plainly and immediately. I do not intend to go anywhere other than here and I do not intend to waste any more of my precious mental energies with trying to figure out exactly what might please you. I also have absolutely no intention of ending my relationship with Dylan simply because it makes you uncomfortable. So, as we both seem to be stuck with the fact of each other's existence, I suggest you act like a proper adult and make your quarrel known so that some attempt might be made at addressing it."
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Nov 28, 2007 1:05:35 GMT -5
Feeling an intense bout of being heavily fussed over coming on, he had a strong sense of apprehension as his mother directed her attention to D’rorah. Closing his eyes against the imminent debate, his head had begun to ache already. Feeling the slight squeeze of his hand, he forced his eyes to re-open. Thoroughly wishing to just find some semblance of peace in his current condition, he instead found the two people closest to him arguing. He couldn’t help but feel annoyed with his mother; D’rorah had done nothing but help him in every way possible, and here she was, jumping to conclusions and attacking the woman he loved.
Arching an eyebrow to the greatest degree she could, Astraeus regarded the girl before her. She found a certain satisfaction in berating the girl who Dylan seemed so infatuated with. Nevermind… It would pass soon; surely it could be no more than a boyhood crush. Hearing the words emitted from the lips that had touched her sons, her eyes narrowed. Disregarding just about everything D’rorah said, she held a loathing expression on her face. Recalling the last instance in which they had met, her thoughts couldn’t help but roam to the fact that Dylan had been quite seriously injured then, too. Seeing her step closer, she cast a largely appraising eye toward the girl that she was really coming to dislike. “Of course I have a problem with you,” she stated bluntly, not caring for the girl’s tone whatsoever. “Every time you show up, my son gets gravely injured. I will not have him taken away from me by some mere trollop.” Indeed, in this case, ‘taken away’ seemed to present a double-meaning; obviously, given the extent of his injuries, his life had been in danger. And of course, he would not lose his son because this little skank had come along.
“This… relationship is a travesty, and I severely hope it doesn’t continue,” she continued, her tone hiding none of her feelings. Much as she detested the use of the word ‘relationship’, she had resigned to herself that as of this moment it was the only term appropriate. She only hoped that this girl had not drawn him in too far with her ridiculous… whatever might have passed for charm. Disgusted with herself for having let this continue, she held a contemptuous expression upon her face.
Seeing a slight darkening of D’rorah’s eyes, Dylan lightly returned the squeeze she had provided him with. “Mum!” he exclaimed in a shocked tone, worried about what had made her say such things. His head was aching continuously and the worrying thoughts refused to leave him be. Frowning in frustration, he cursed the fact that they fought like this. “This wasn’t her fau-” Unable to continue, he found himself incredibly lightheaded, his multitude of tumultuous thoughts desperately fighting to overwhelming him. His eyes rolling back slightly, he fought to keep conscious.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Nov 28, 2007 1:24:01 GMT -5
D'rorah listened to Astraeus' comments. After she had mentioned the fact that Dylan had ended up with severe injuries both times Astraeus had seen them together, everything else was lost on her. While it was true she had saved Dylan's life the night that he had been attacked by John, it was also just as likely that he would not have been out, walking around in a dark alley were it not for her either. And, the injuries which had been inflicted most recently were almost certainly the work of the Mage's minions. Perhaps Astraeus was right... what if Dylan died just as D'rorah's parents had? The mere thought of such a thing was enough to send her into a spiral of guilt.
"Very well," she replied quietly. "Perhaps," her words were cut short as Dylan's words of defense cut her off, as his eyes rolled back into his head. "Dylan?" she called, kneeling beside the bed. Without wasting a moment in hesitation, she placed a hand to the side of his head, once again entering his mind, leading him back into consciousness. The stress of their argument had taxed his already-stretched resources. She brought him back slowly and waited to be certain he would not fully lapse into unconsciousness. "I am so sorry," she whispered, her guilt having built to a nearly insurmountable level. She looked up at Astraeus as she made her way back to her feet. She then glanced toward Dylan. "Peace for now," she bid quietly. "Peace." With that, she turned and made her way to the other side of the infirmary, ostensibly looking for a dose of potion while she was actually deep in the process of blaming herself for everything that had happened.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Nov 28, 2007 1:48:05 GMT -5
Everything was lost for a moment as darkness enveloped him. Feeling himself returning however, he was dully aware of what had just happened. Finding D’rorah at his side, he thought she looked worried and… guilty? It was not an expression he was accustomed to finding in her. Urging his mind to cease its swirling nature, he felt himself desperately wishing to tell her that none of this was her fault, that she would never harm him or allow him to be harmed in such a manner. No words came out, however, as he struggled with his eyesight. Everything moving in and out of focus, he saw the approach of his mother.
“Dylan?” she uttered softly, glad that the pest of a girl had moved off somewhere else. Taking her sons hand in her own, she squeezed it lightly. Concern shone in her eyes and she viewed her son, and tears were threatening to fall from her eyes. Already she had wondered about the scars that covered his body so extensively, the reddened marks in every area he could see, the burns on his scalp. Who… what… could have done such a thing? For the first time, the appearance of Dylan sunk in. Noticing his eyes re-open and focus on her, a few tears, unbidden, spilled from her eyes. “Oh Dylan… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Making to brush a strand of hair from his face, she stopped herself halfway.
The action did not go unnoticed by Dylan. His appearance and the self-deprecation associated with it returned in full force as his mother withdrew her hand once more. His eyes falling away from hers, he wanted more than anything in the world for everyone to leave. To let him be with his injuries, hidden away from the world. Hidden away from people who didn’t deserve to see his wounds and feel bad, feel pity or sympathy. He didn’t want to see the disgust, the loathing in their eyes. Half wishing that his attacker had gone all the way instead of simply leaving him with this scarred shell, he hated himself with every fibre of his being.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Nov 28, 2007 2:11:06 GMT -5
Even across the room and attempting to shield out the thoughts in the room around her, D'rorah could feel Dylan's self hatred. It was like a malice which seethed in the air, wrapping around her until she felt like she could no longer breathe. She opened up a bit further and felt him wishing he had simply died... and the very thought was absolutely horrible to her. She turned where she was standing in front of the potions pantry and faced him.
I love you Dylan Cooper. There is life after something like this... you were my proof of that. She sent the thought to him silently, not wanting to intrude upon mother and son and cause another scene. This incident made her recall her own stay in the hospital in New York after she had been found by one of her father's co-workers in the middle of the carnage that was their apartment. She too had spent far longer than her mind would allow her to accurately recall enduring the pitying and disgusted stares of the staff and the investigators who came to visit. No one had believed that three wizards who had so easily dispatched her parents had somehow failed to kill her. That had been the worst part... being a suspect in the murder of her own parents.
She selected a relatively benign potion from the pantry, one which would aid his cellular regeneration and boost his energy levels somewhat. She crossed the room quietly and stopped on the side of the bed opposite from where Astraeus was standing. She offered Dylan a reassuring smile and held out the vial of potion. "This should aid your healing a bit." It would also speed the regrowth of his hair, giving him at least some feeling of normalcy and hopefully making the remainder of his convalescence somewhat more bearable.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Nov 28, 2007 3:29:47 GMT -5
Not lifting his gaze for a second, he became completely still as D’rorah’s words hit him. His jaw remained tensed even as his eyes became lost in the sheets covering the bed in which he lay. Unable to express the many conflicting emotions within him, he continued to remain confused, feeling more alone by the minute despite the presence of several people around him. D’rorah’s statement, however, had enabled him something solid to hold on to; something simple that could be clearly deciphered in amongst the turmoil. Clinging to it as if it were his branch of support in a raging river, he yearned to express to her what he was feeling. At the moment, however, he didn’t even really know himself. He wanted every problem to disappear, for everything in his mind to simply fade into nothingness.
Realising this would not happen, however, that such bliss was too interminably far from him, he felt himself beginning to implode with the stress it was causing. The only thing that kept him from breaking down completely was the one thought that D’rorah had sent to him. Keeping his eyes averted from both his mothers and Alessandro’s, he sent back a thought in his desperation. I can’t do this, Dee… Help me. It was not much, but it was all he could manage, all he could form in the way of a coherent thought. As it was, everything was so intermingled with everything else that he was at a complete and utter loss as to what to do. The only way for the turmoil to travel was further in, unable to be released in the form of an outward action or word.
Feeling rather than seeing the approach of D’rorah once more, he managed to receive her small smile. There was very little chance, if any, of him returning it, however. Moving to accept the vial with a weakened hand, he found his movements largely unnecessary as Astraeus reached for it. His body, quite overcome with the emotions within, was almost as weak as it had been on the day after the attack, and his arm plummeted back to the bedsheets, unable to support itself any longer.
Taking the vial from the girls hand, Astraeus quickly analysed that D’rorah would not be so stupid to poison Dylan right underneath her very nose. Indeed, it might seem radical to even have to consider such a thing. With all she had known steadily slipping from her grasp, however, she found it exceptionally difficult to consider the notion of allowing her son to grow up. Having such a relationship meant that he was moving into that realm, that he was progressing through life. She didn’t intentionally intend to squander him; she loved him, afterall, and wished him to be happy. But in the end, she could not for the life of her see why he had chosen the girl before him. In all respects, she had only ever appeared to be cold, detached and austere. Not at all like Dylan. She truly felt that this relationship, however intense he alone might think it to be, could only end in heartbreak. With that, she made to provide him with the potion but found him largely unconscious. “Dylan?” she called hurriedly, concern consuming her as she watched her son slip in and out of consciousness. Not considering for a moment that she herself might be the cause, it didn’t even cross her mind that perhaps the tension caused by her presence had done such a thing.
His entire being ached, his eyes filled with the frustration and helplessness he felt in this situation. He could not form any solid thought, could not maintain anything for more than a few seconds. Thoughts of the attack, of John, of both his paternal and foster fathers, of the struggle between D’rorah and Astraeus, his inner turmoil on the identity of his attacker… It all just seemed too much. Far too much for one small boy to handle, and indeed, under the weight of such thoughts, such feelings, he seemed very small indeed. Crushed by his own inner workings, the ultimate irony was carried out as he was driven into a frenzy of thought, and finally, everything stopped.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Nov 28, 2007 13:21:53 GMT -5
D’rorah made no move to pull away as Astraeus took the potion she had selected for Dylan. She stood by quietly, waiting for her to administer the dosage to him. Hearing her concerned query, her heart fell to see that Dylan was once again teetering on the edge of consciousness. And then, it seemed that everything finally became too much and his body slackened against the pillow as he lost consciousness.
D’rorah moved forward quickly, kneeling at his bedside. The crisis of the moment had spurred her into action, Astraeus’ thoughts on the matter be damned. She took the vial of potion from Astraeus’ hand, which was somewhat slackened in shock. It took her mere seconds to pull the cork from the bottle and get one hand beneath Dylan’s head to lift it so she could pour the potion down his throat. She had heard before of victims of trauma becoming overwhelmed physically and emotionally and simply giving up, lapsing into comas never to reemerge in the land of the living. She wasn’t going to stand idly by while the one remaining person in the world who mattered deeply to her floundered and suffered. While most others would have been forced to wait to see whether the potion took effect and he could fight his way free from mental distress, D’rorah had the advantage of her mental abilities in helping Dylan’s mind to deal with its stress.
Once she had administered the potion, she scooted onto the bed, allowing his head to rest on her lap. At the moment she had no concern for who might discover her abilities as a telepath; she only cared about seeing to Dylan’s safety and well being. With his head resting securely on a leg that was partially folded under her, the other leg hanging over the side of the bed, she placed her hands at his temples and began murmuring softly in Hebrew, the way her mother had done when she was very young. The words had nothing to do with the deeper things that were going on, but they soothed her and she hoped he would take comfort from her softly spoken words.
Carefully, she began to push into his mind, to use her skills to calm his racing thoughts and separate out the tension. She couldn’t alleviate it, but she could partially barrier it so that he could deal with things in controlled doses. The effect was rather like the difference between drinking through a straw and having everything hastily poured on him like a bucket. She began the tedious work of repairing delicate neurological connections while infusing some of her own calm into his mind. She paid no attention to anyone else in the room, working away steadily, waiting to see Dylan’s eyes flutter open once again. At that point, she would continue to maintain those barriers for him and then they would slowly work through the emotions and begin releasing them so that he could again rest peacefully. Though she felt guilty about having partially been the cause of some of the tension that had led him to this state, she pushed the feelings away, knowing that they wouldn’t be helpful for her current task.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Nov 28, 2007 21:17:42 GMT -5
Becoming slightly detached from everything, the concern she held for her son became paramount to all else; even her dislike for the girl who promptly took the vial out of her grasp and poured some of the contents into Dylan’s mouth. “What… Will he be alright?” she questioned lightly. She herself was by no means a doctor; in fact, healing spells had never been her strength. It had always been slightly frustrating for her to see her son return bleeding and wounded after being attacked by that menace John, and know that she could do little to help. All she could ever really do was tend to his wounds the best she could and simply be there for him; she had surmised over the years, however, that his dog had brought him more comfort than she ever had.
She’d always wondered if it had been a resentment he held toward her for sending him to live with the blacksmith’s family after Darius had died. Truly, she had been a poor mother at that point in his life, but she herself had barely been able to cope with her husband’s death; sending him somewhere where he didn’t have to see her suffer like that, somewhere where he could be taken care of the way he deserved had seemed the very best option at the time, and while she thought to this day that while it had been the correct decision, she doubted herself every now and then. Perhaps what he had needed was simply his mother, and she had denied him that with her distance.
Thinking back to the state in which some of the villagers had discovered John the day after, she knew that D’rorah had not harmed him. It did not stop her, however, from being angry that she had not protected him. True, perhaps there was nothing that could have been done to prevent such a disastrous situation, and she knew that John had done such things in the past… But still, the evidence was there. In all his years at Hogwarts the worst damage done had been a broken arm after falling off his broom during a Quidditch match; but the moment she enters his life and this happens.
Astraeus was not stupid, she realised that her son may never look the same. But she didn’t care about his appearance; only to the extent of his own self-image, anyway. She cared about potentially losing the boy she had known for all of his life; of losing who her son had been. She would love him no matter what, but she did not want to see him suffer like this, to have his entire demeanor change, his entire network of emotions altered because of the culprit of this disgusting attack.
Watching silently as D’rorah did what she had to do, she realised just how badly Dylan seemed to cope in such instances. The night he had crawled up to the house, battered and broken, she had seen in his eyes exactly how changed he had been. She had seen the effect, too, that his father’s dwindling health and death had had upon her son. He did not cope well with such drastic changes in his life, such unfortunate events. Realising that this must have happened approximately a week ago or so, she wondered how he had come this far. Albeit, he had lapsed back into unconsciousness; but deep down she knew very well that he must not be like that all of the time recently. The only conclusion she could come to, while detesting it so, was that D’rorah was helping him in more ways than she herself ever could.
Regarding the girl, he supposed that perhaps her hostile demeanor did not present a person to which D’rorah could reveal her true nature. Dylan obviously saw something she did not, and if she didn’t want to lose him, she would have to accept this new girl… She realised that now. Her eyes softening slightly as she saw the tender way in which D’rorah held him, the effort she was putting into easing his suffering and aiding his recovery. Wondering what she was doing for a minute, it took her a little while to realise. She had not encountered this type of magic excepting what little was contained within textbooks, afterall.
Into his mind drifted soft whisperings of a language he could vaguely comprehend. Well, his Hebrew was still not very advanced, give him some credit. His mind steadily beginning to slow down, he resurfaced into consciousness. It was a hazy form of consciousness, and he was quite confused, but he was conscious nevertheless. Moaning lightly, he found his head in D’rorah’s lap and her hands upon his temple. “Dee…” he muttered weakly, his headache still refusing to be alleviated. “I love you…” For some reason, he felt as if it was incredibly important for him to say so. “Don’t fight…” he uttered softly, wanting more than anything for the two of them to get along. They could at least save it for when he wasn’t lying in an infirmary bed.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Nov 28, 2007 21:48:58 GMT -5
Finally seeing Dylan wake once again, D'rorah's heart began beating once again. Of course, it couldn't have really stopped, but it certainly felt as though it had. "I love you too," she replied quietly. "Now shhhhh... no one is fighting anymore. Just rest..."
She closed her eyes, concentrating on the task at hand. It would be quite easy to Dylan to lapse back into unconsciousness if she simply left his mind all of a sudden. At the moment, there was no Astraeus Cooper, there was no Alessandro, there was only Dylan and his emotionally wrecked mind. "Are you in any mental discomfort?" she asked quietly, dividing her attention between his mind and the outside world enough to speak. She could have more easily communicated silently with the mental connection she had just forged, but wasn't sure if Dylan himself was up for such a thing at the moment. She decided it was best to keep all communication in as familiar a method as possible.
She didn't want to fight with Astraeus at all... she had done her best to be polite and proper upon first meeting her, had looked for something she might be able to do which might please her, but had apparently found nothing. She was resigning herself to this fact... Astraeus simply would never care much for her, but D'rorah would have to do whatever she could to keep the peace for Dylan's sake, especially right now. She pushed her own exhaustion aside and drew upon her reserves of energy to hold the barriers. This sort of effort was extremely mentally taxing and she worried she wouldn't be able to hold out quite long enough for Dylan to recuperate to a point where he would be able to hold himself together on his own.
She wasn't sure how long she sat there, simply holding his mind together, allowing him time to rest from the stress that had overwhelmed him. Her own head was beginning to ache from the effort... she had held mental barriers already for him the past two nights while he slept, pulled him back twice from unconsciousness today, and was now holding barriers in his mind so he could rest. D'rorah herself was past the point of exhaustion. Finally, only an hour and a half after she had entered Dylan's mind this second time and brought him back from his unconscious state, she began to slowly pull back, fighting to hold on long enough to pull out slowly so that he would not be overwhelmed all at once.
"I apologize, I cannot hold this any longer," she remarked quietly as she began to leave his mind. She moved as slowly as she was able and finally slumped back against the headboard. Her hand pressed to her forehead for a moment, trying to quell the throbbing maelstrom of pain running amok through her grey matter before she remembered that there were others in the room. Carefully, she opened her eyes and straightened herself, her hand moving back to rest atop the bed. "I will be close by if you need me," she reassured him before removing herself form beneath him, carefully placing a pillow under his head where it had rested upon her leg.
She stood and straightened. "Pardon me for a moment," she remarked quietly, not really speaking directly to Astraeus or Alessandro, though the words were obviously intended for them. With that, she walked off, making her way out into the corridor and to the nearest bathroom. Locking herself in the first empty stall she spied, D'rorah collapsed to her knees and her eyes fell shut. Her head was cradled in her hands, her elbows rested on the rim of the toilet seat for support as she waited for some of her strength to regather.
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