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Post by Dylan Cooper on Oct 9, 2007 22:19:15 GMT -5
Producing a small nod, he inwardly agreed that this town was rather nice. Remembering that he had promised to show her around, he felt slightly guilty that his legs had not agreed with this decision. As she leaned over to rest on his shoulder, his own head came to rest on hers and she began to speak, the words sounding slightly hesitant. Maybe that was just his imagination, though. Dylan lifted himself back into his prior position, his head no longer resting on hers as she expanded on her initial statement. Feeling as if his eyes might betray some of his feelings for the moment, he kept them averted from her own gaze as regret and a slight anger resided in him. Anger at his mother for making D'rorah feel like she wasn't welcome.
He knew his mother to have few friends, if any; she wasn't very good around other people. He knew that perhaps there was a reason for the slight tension toward D'rorah, the girlfriend of her only remaining relative, as well as her son, but that didn't stop him being angry. D'rorah was the first woman... the first person that he'd ever gotten along with so well, and had such a deep connection with, and Dylan couldn't help but be slightly resentful that his mother hadn't tried harder to accept her thus far.
Her arms moved around him and soon withdrew again, only serving for him to believe she felt guilty for touching him in such an intimate way. This belief adding to his slight anger, he simply nodded at her next comments. A minute or so passing in silence, he heard a shuffling movement at the doorway and looked up to see his mother. His mouth forming only a straight line, he raised himself off the chair he was currently occupying. With his shirt barely crinkled, and likewise with his pants, he walked past his mother without a word, cutting off what she'd just opened her mouth to say.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Oct 9, 2007 22:34:33 GMT -5
D'rorah saw Dylan nod... and the anger behind his eyes. It was slight, but it was unmistakably there. She started to speak again, but looked up as she heard the shuffling in the doorway and said nothing. She felt even more awkward now... not welcomed by Astraeus and possibly having Dylan angry with her for canceling their tentative plans.
She rose from the seat in her chair with one fluid movement and made to follow after Dylan. "Good evening, Ms. Cooper," she greeted quietly. She started to make an excuse to skip dinner, but could not think of anything plausible... and she had come to support Dylan. Suddenly everything in her normally emotionally closed-off life felt complicated. For the first time in quite some time, she felt as completely unsure of what to do.
With no alternative appearing in her mind at the moment, she simply decided to act as though nothing were wrong for the moment. She would sort out her own head later, in private.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Oct 9, 2007 23:19:00 GMT -5
Hearing that D'rorah was following, he opened the front door and made his way down to the lawn. Taking in a deep breath, the element surrounding him boosted his energy levels. This was only a small comfort when compared to the prospect of an entire meal with his foster family, however, considering both the events of the day and the fact that John simply hated him.
His feelings of anger towards his mother disappated as they neared the home, and he fell back in line with D'rorah. Making sure his mother was far enough back, he whispered to her quietly. "I'm sorry if you feel uncomfortable, Dee. I'll talk to her later tonight," he said in reference to his mother. His voice was gentle and his hand found its way into hers, hoping she would accept the movement of initiating contact. As they were approaching the blacksmith, his anxiety was growing and he rather felt the need to have someone standing resolutely by his side.
The front door came into view and they continued their little walk, making short work of it. The quarter hour mark approached as Dylan knocked softly on the door, making sure that his mother was close by. The door was opened to reveal his foster mother, looking every bit as sad as she had earlier that day. She said a small 'I'm glad you came,' and embraced Dylan. Returning the hug briefly, he pulled away. "You remember D'rorah," he said quietly, turning to look at her and smiling softly in the process. Despite everything, seeing her beside him managed to instill some form of calm in amongst the turmoil of his thoughts and emotions.
Stepping inside as Georgia beckoned, he found himself in the modest entranceway that was as familiar to him as his own home. Leading the way through to the dining room, he saw that the table was set out beautifully though no occupants were to be found. Discovering the reason for this, he found his foster siblings seated in the next room, the far more comfortable lounging area. Giving a small smile to Marie, he proceeded directly past his foster brother without so much as acknowledging his presence, and seated himself on an as yet empty couch for two. From the looks he was receiving, however, it seemed as though John had not ignored his presence.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Oct 9, 2007 23:41:50 GMT -5
D'rorah watched as Dylan walked off ahead of her and fought against a knot that seemed to form in her throat. Her heart seemed to have suddenly acquired the new habit of beating only sporadically... and with no discernible rhythm. She had not noticed the distance close between them until he was whispering to her. She squeezed his hand as it found its way to hers and was flooded with a mixture of feelings... relief being most prominent among them at the moment. "I... speak carefully," she replied quietly. "As I said, I do not wish to cause more tension. I came to help support you... I did not wish to make things even more complicated for you." She squeezed his hand firmly. I love you, Dylan Cooper, she thought silently.
She watched as foster son and mother embraced quickly. She caught Dylan's smile and could not help a small smile in return, feeling relieved that he was not, apparently, angry with D'rorah herself. She nodded at Georgia. "Yes, my condolences once again," she remarked quietly.
She followed Dylan through the dining room into a sitting room. Her greeting to the occupants of the room was pleasant but rather subdued. Catching the angry glare, emanating from John, she moved to sit beside Dylan. She felt mildly uncomfortable, though not nearly as uncomfortable as she had felt under Astraeus' disapproving gaze. Anger, hatred... those were solid emotions coming from a person she really had no care for to begin with. As she sat on the couch, she surreptitiously moved her hand to Dylan's, wishing to once again feel that reassuring contact between them. As she did, she thought she noticed John's gaze move from one to the other of them, though it once again settled on Dylan, only occasionally moving to glare at her. Apparently, he hated her merely by association.
She was only too relieved as dinner was finally announced and the somewhat awkward silence between the young people was brought to an end... or at least, put on a brief hiatus to be continued elsewhere. Following the others into the dining room, she took the seat to Dylan's right, hoping the hostess wouldn't mind terribly if she refused whatever main course she might be serving... being a vegetarian often made going to dinners like this a bit complicated. Noting what seemed to be several interesting side-dishes besides the ham that graced the spot of honor on the table, she felt reassured that she would at least not be forced to decline Georgia's hospitality.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Oct 10, 2007 0:20:43 GMT -5
Feeling D'rorah's hand enter his own once more, he felt far more comforted as the glares emanating from John continued to be directed his way. Noticing that his gaze was flickering between him and Dee, he felt angry that he was taking his hatred out on her, as well as him. His eyes normally would have flashed at the thought, but the overwhelming memories of Aiden he received from being in this house quite disappated any anger.
Saddening memories flashed through his mind as dinner was announced. Following his foster siblings back through into the dining room, his hand still held onto D'rorah's as she trailed behind him slightly. Seeing the feast before him, he felt decidedly less than hungry, something that was quite unusual in itself. He recalled the many times the family had sat down to dinner at this very table, his mind very conscious of the fact that Aiden would never again join them.
Sighing lightly, he was comforted by the hand within his own, and gave it a small squeeze as Georgia began to say grace. Always having felt relatively uncomfortable at this point of a meal, tonight was no exception. Wondering briefly if D'rorah were religious, he hoped she wouldn't be offended by the process if she were not Christian. He knew that, despite his own non-Christian beliefs, he was never offended. He simply accepted that as a part of life, having to adapt himself.
Dinner finally starting, he considered himself incredibly unfortunate to be seated opposite to his foster brother, though supposed that the glares would have continued, irrespective of the distance between the two boys. Knowing the amazing skill with which Georgia cooked, he felt bad that he wasn't hungrier, though supposed it was reasonable considering the events of the day. Reluctantly releasing D'rorah's hand, he took a slice of ham and some salad for himself and quietly began to eat.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Oct 10, 2007 0:38:25 GMT -5
D'rorah sat quietly through the grace, not participating with the others as it was said, though she did bow her head in deference to those who wished to say grace. When dinner began, she carefully selected the dishes which appeared to have no meat, avoiding the ham and hoping no one would question her eating habits. Luckily, it seemed everyone was too absorbed in their own recollections and thoughts to notice. Not certain what sort of conversation would be appropriate, and not feeling much like conversing with anyone after the emotionally tumultuous day they had had, she continued eating quietly, feeling John's angry gaze occasionally fall upon her and noting glanced in her direction from Astraeus... those were quite a bit more difficult to discern.
"Dinner was excellent," she remarked quietly as she finished the last of her dinner. Receiving polite thanks from Georgia, she smiled softly and wondered how long Dylan would want to stay and what the walk home would be like. Unsure of what else to do, D'rorah took to simply waiting for the others to finish.
It seemed as though the evening dragged on forever before she found herself finally bidding goodnight to Dylan's foster family. "Perhaps we could have that walk now?" she suggested, thinking it might do some good to get away from everyone for a short period of time. "I have not yet had my guided tour."
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Oct 10, 2007 1:07:46 GMT -5
Dylan remained silent throughout the meal, an idea that seemed to be shared by everyone. Uncharacteristically playing with his food a bit, he eventually managed to finish the entire plate in all of its small glory. The sole reason being that he didn't wish to offend Georgia, not that he was particularly hungry, of course. Seeing D'rorah finish beside him, he nodded absently at her comment, despite not actually having been in the state of mind to taste much.
The awkward silence finally broken by his mother, who suggested that they'd better be off in a quiet voice, he stood up in relief. Avoiding the small glance his mother aimed at him, he nodded briefly to his foster sister as he left the table. Leaving the house with a quiet "goodbye, Dylan," from Marie and a "hope to see you soon," from Georgia, he looked to D'rorah as she spoke. "I'd like that," he commented quietly, producing a small nod to solidify his opinion of taking a walk.
Bidding goodnight to his mother briefly, he told her not to wait up as he took D'rorah's hand in his own and began to slowly walk down the street. The couple turned down a small side street, followed by another, and passed a tiny walkway that he knew to connect their current and initial roads. As they continued, memories remained in his mind; memories of the good and the bad times he'd shared with his foster father. Not knowing what he could say, nor what he should say, he simply remained silent.
He heard faint footsteps approaching them, presumably coming from the walkway they'd just passed. Dylan chose to ignore them, and in fact, barely registered the noise due to his current thoughts. Hearing a snide remark come from behind him, he subconsciously registered that the footsteps had ceased. Turning to face the familiar speaker, he found exactly who he was expecting. "What do you want?" he said in a slightly angry voice, not wanting an encounter after the day he'd had. His body tensed slightly, remembering the damage the boy alone could inflict, and his eyes narrowed in dislike. How dare he do this now, of all times.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Oct 10, 2007 6:26:55 GMT -5
As Dylan accepted her idea of a walk and bid goodnight to his mother, D'rorah smiled somewhat. Astraeus didn't seem to have much reaction to their goodnight; but then, no one had really had much reaction to anything since they had arrived, other than reactions caused by the own pangs of grief. Unfortunately, smiles didn't seem particularly appropriate to the occasion, but she smiled nonetheless, eager to have a few moments alone with him. She leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked. She didn't attempt to initiate conversation, feeling that he was busy with memories of the recently departed. The thought that someone would take the life of a man who was so obviously loved and respected in his community, that someone would cause so much pain, specifically to Dylan, made her slightly angry and her jaw tensed slightly.
As they continued on their silent walk, D'rorah began to hear footsteps behind them. Seeing that Dylan paid them no attention, she only somewhat paid attention to them. In such a small town, it felt less likely that one really needed to be constantly vigilant; though, she did tense somewhat out of habit.
And then, their pursuer was speaking, making a rude remark about the young couple. She turned with Dylan and saw John. He stood there, posture threatening. D'rorah had picked up on Dylan's dislike for to boy and certainly accepted it as a mutual feeling. She could find little merit in anyone who would hunt like a predator at night for innocent victims on the very night of his own father's funeral. She realized as they faced each other at full height, that John was slightly taller than she and wielded his posture like one used to intimidating his prey before striking.
What do you want?
D'rorah spoke up, not wanting the night to end in a fight. "We should simply continue walking," she remarked quietly, not interested in an altercation. She had the feeling she would be less than welcome in the small town upon her return if they were forced to harm one of the town's beloved sons... especially on the night of his father's funeral.
[blue]"Oh yes, continue walking," John mocked her. "How'd you end up with this loser anyway? Girl like you looks like someone who might be interested in a real man,"[/i] he added, advancing on them. He clearly remembered all the previous fights in which he had been the one to emerge victorious and figured a girl would be nothing more than a handicap to Dylan.[/blue]
D'rorah's face was expressionless as he approached. "I find that those who make the assertion to being real men often fall far short of their self-proclaimed status," she remarked simply. Her body tensed. Whatever John though might happen here, if he chose to fight, it would not turn out as he was accustomed to. After her years of training and learning to fight, first for the Order, and next as a Shadow Warrior, she had little concern for this boy. She found herself stepping forward slightly, as though taking in the role of the protector. "Please, just go your own way. We mean no menace to anyone here," she added. "We do not wish to fight anyone." Didn't wish to; but she certainly would if she had to.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Oct 10, 2007 22:39:09 GMT -5
He remembered a time when he would have longed to let his pride down enough to cower in terror. He remembered the sick feeling of being trapped unexpectedly, having a fight thrust upon him. He remembered being towered over, tormented, teased. But despite his comparatively small stature, Dylan no longer felt afraid of his foster brother.
His mind automatically dismissed D'rorah's quiet suggestion; he had tried once to turn his back and walk away. The result had been several broken bones and a scar above his eye. Feeling angry that John had chosen the one of the most inappropriate times possible to confront him. Not only had his father been buried today, but D'rorah was also present. Despite everything, he felt furious that he had dared bring her into this.
Seeing him advance, he allowed his snide comments to pass right over him. It had been a long time since words had done him any damage. Fists, on the other hand... If he weren't so caught up in remembering the bloody pulp he'd previously been, he might have thought Dee's remark funny. Noting her tense even further, he prepared himself to fight. Dylan was a nice boy, but he still had that same old boyish pride; letting D'rorah defend him was not on his objectives list for the night. Knowing full well John would not walk away, his eyes narrowed and he stepped forward, coming in line with Dee.
"What? Think that suddenly because you have some girl with you that you can beat me, Cooper?" he said with a smirk, noticing their advances. "You couldn't touch me if I had a broken limb and no eyesight," he added, cracking his knuckles threatningly.
His eyes lighting up in anger, he knew that to show weakness in John's presence was death by humiliation. Not to mention a tough beating. That thought in his mind, he made to attack but was beaten to the mark. Before he knew it, a rough, heavy fist was planted onto his cheek and he recoiled, his leg striking out and catching the boy in the shin.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Oct 10, 2007 23:13:17 GMT -5
D'rorah saw Dylan step up out of the corner of her eye and understood that there was no way this scene would end without some sort of physical violence. Sensing that Dylan had some sort of pride at stake here, she hung back a bit, allowing him to handle it himself. The next moment, a fist was moving past her and connected with Dylan's cheek. She watched as he kicked out, a retaliation with only seemed to anger John further. As John's fist struck out again, D'rorah reacted. As a Shadow Warrior, her first instinct was to protect her Elemental Master and that feeling transferred to any Elemental Master--after all, that technically was the first obligation of a Shadow Warrior. Her hand shot out and caught John's fist in mid-flight, displaying strength with obviously surprised him, as his eyes widened slightly.
"As I said, Mister Reynolds, we wish to be left in peace. However, as you have taken the liberty of making the first blow, I suppose peaceable reconciliation is no longer an option."
Moving with reflexes honed from years of training, D'rorah gripped his fist more tightly and brought John's arm up around his back as she simultaneously swept his legs from underneath him. Jonathan let forth a large grunt as his body met the pavement and the air was knocked from his lungs.
D'rorah, assuming that her point had been made, turned back to Dylan. Her hand moved to rest on his cheek lightly. "Are you alright?" she asked quietly, her eyes full of concern. It had been a rather nasty strike, and definitely not fair. She heard Jonathan stir behind her and kissed Dylan quickly before turning around to face him, waiting to see whether he intended to leave or attempt to fight again.
I appeared, as he rose to his full height, eyes narrowed in loathing and hatred at D'rorah, that he intended to fight. She hesitated as he lunged for her and just barely blocked his strike. She struck out immediately at pressure points, wanting to inflict the maximum amount of pain for a minimum amount of effort. Sharp jabs to throat, stomach, collar-bone, and a sweeping kick to the knees were delivered in rapid succession.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Oct 11, 2007 0:04:46 GMT -5
Seeing the second blow coming, his eyes widened at the ease with which D'rorah had stopped the fist moving. He'd known she was strong, but sparring lightly and watching her in a real battle, however small, were quite different things. He watched as she let loose on his body, the advantage of years of training far outweighing any physical advantage John had.
Wishing for a moment that she had not engaged in his fight, he pushed the irrational thought aside as her hand touched his slightly sore cheek. "I'm fine," he stated confidently, inwardly waving away the small aching sensation. Receiving a quick kiss, he watched as D'rorah moved into a threatning position, bearing down on John menacingly. His body, slow as always to catch up with his quick mind, only began moving once his foster brother had attempted to hit her. Seeing that she could obviously defend herself, his pride took a slight slip down a notch.
As her sweeping kick was delivered, John's knees buckled and he fell to the ground. Seeing him rise quickly once more, Dylan reacted in an attempt to save what pride he might still contain. Driven by both his ego and the years of anger that he felt for the young man before him, he tackled his foster brother to the ground. Once down, his arms flashed forward numerous times, hitting any part he could find. His anger building along with a slight satisfaction, he felt hands pummeling into himself and knew the boy beneath him was retaliating in the easiest way possible.
Dylan had a severe disadvantage with his size, however. The much larger boy, with annoying ease, rolled him over and sat astride of him, fist colliding with stomach, chest, arms and face more times than Dylan might care to count. The damage was starting to take a toll as he fought back valiantly, determined to win this once and for all. As long as John remained the victor, this treatment would never end. Perhaps losing would only anger the boy more, but he assumed that John would at least be more cautious in future, should he triumph over the boy that had made his life hell for so many years.
As John shifted above him, he took the opportunity to drive a now free knee into his opponents stomach. Hearing a painful grunt come from above him, he smiled weakly despite his current condition. His lower lip was bleeding, a wide gash formed in the centre. The scar above his eye had reopened and was bleeding profusely, along with various other gashes on his face, chest and arms. He felt a dull pain in both his cheek and the area of his ribs, and moaned slightly. To his credit therefore, he did manage to smile weakly. However, that was before his hair was grabbed roughly and his head was bashed into the concrete beneath him. His head colliding with the solid concrete, stars fell before his eyes and he saw a fading outline recede into darkness.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Oct 11, 2007 0:41:17 GMT -5
D'rorah fell back a bit as Dylan jumped into what quickly became a fray. She wanted desperately to help, but could see that he was clearly trying to resolve something. She watched as he began pummeling John and started to feel reassured that he would hold his own. Unfortunately, John seemed to have other ideas. It took every ounce of self-restraint she possessed to hold back as the tide of the fight shifted in John's favor. Suddenly Dylan was being held down and the blows were being traded back and forth. She nearly felt every blow that connected with him. Suddenly, John rose and before she was able to reach them again, he had slammed Dylan's head against the concrete.
"Dylan!" her voice cracked slightly as she cried his name. She could see John pulling back Dylan's head, preparing to strike another blow against the pavement. With his body weight so low to the ground it was more difficult to catch John off center. Rushing forward, she dealt a kick with caught John squarely in his chin. He dropped Dylan's head and turned to face her.
[blue]"Stupid b*tch, you're next," he growled, spitting blood on the ground.[/blue]
D'rorah had to make a concerted effort to put her emotions out of the situation. Watching Dylan beaten was far too reminiscent of being forced to watch her parents' torture before they died. The hesitation necessary to push her own anger and hurt away left John an opening. He lunged for her, and managed to deal a fairly solid blow to her midsection before grabbing a handful of her robes and yanking her up off of her feet.
Thinking quickly, she brought her hands up, clapping his ears with as much force as she could muster. Feeling an almost explosive pain in his eardrums, John released his grip enough for her to wrest herself free. She wasted no time on holding back. Obviously, this boy did not intend to stop until he could no longer fight... or until they could no longer fight. She rushed at him, delivering a roundhouse kick which she could have sworn resulted in the crunching of ribs. Her movements were a flurry of action as John tore at her robes, trying to land blows which were blocked. In quick succession, she kicked into one knee, watching as John sank to his knees once again, an elbow connected with his collarbone, resulting in a satisfying crunching sound as she grabbed is wrist with her other arm and twisted his arm around, dislocating his shoulder.
Pushing him backwards onto the pavement, her boot found its way to his throat. The urge to simply kill the boy was overwhelming as she felt a bud of anger bloom in her that goaded her to give in. Her foot pushed down, cutting off his air supply as she teetered on the edge of crushing his windpipe. "I cannot abide by a bully," she remarked hatefully. She stood there for several moments as his mouth worked silently, pleading for oxygen. Finally, she shook her head and blinked, her foot releasing the pressure it had held on his throat. She drew her foot back and delivered a swift kick to the side of his head, knocking him unconscious.
Looking around first, she brandished her wand and conjured bindings which secured John's arms and legs so that he would be trapped whenever he woke up. With one last angry look at him, she turned her attention to Dylan, kneeling at his side, cradling his head in her hands as she turned him onto his back. The ragged breathing affirmed that he was alive and D'rorah was nearly overwhelmed with relief that the blows to the concrete had not killed him. "Dylan," she called his name softly, pushing his hair from his face. "Dylan?" She shook his shoulders gently, willing him to respond. Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him tight as hot tears streamed down her face.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Oct 11, 2007 2:12:23 GMT -5
All there was, was the darkness of oblivion. For once, no thoughts whatsoever were to be found, no memories swirled in the depths of his mind, and no actions formed as he lay unconscious. A wide gash had formed on the back of his head, mute evidence of the damage inflicted by the hard pavement, and was bleeding steadily.
Drifting back into what may have been consciousness, this theory was confirmed soon after as he returned to a dull kind of daze. Feeling a tickling sensation run across his face, he thought he heard his name called softly. Considering his confused, throbbing head and current condition, however, he might have imagined it. Before he could even consider moving his mouth in an effort to form words, he felt the undeniable clutch of D'rorah and hot splashes on his face that had not been formed by his own eyes. Using all of his energy to stay conscious, he decided against talking and simply opened his eyes drearily, seeing red. The blood from the gash on his head, evidently, had streamed into his eyes.
His head swirled and his neck complimented the action, craning back drearily. His eyes rolling, it was rather an accomplishment for them to land on John and make an attempt at focusing. Dimly, he registered that his foster brother would not be bothering them again tonight. Unbidden, a small sound echoed from the depths of his hollow throat. It was the most he could do to let D'rorah know that he was aware of things, no matter how vaguely. Knowing he could do nothing to help himself, he would have wished for a warm bed and some pain relief had he been thinking of anything but pain.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Oct 11, 2007 2:57:47 GMT -5
Hearing the smallest whisper of a sound from Dylan's throat, D'rorah took a deep breath. Apparently he was alive and even had the wherewithall to be relieved that he was alive. Her arms tightened around him as her hug grew momentarily stronger. "Are you able to walk back to your home with me?" she asked gently. "We should find someone to see to your wounds."
She was so relieved by his presence that she leaned forward and kissed him lightly, wishing only for somewhere to plant a deeper kiss, but afraid she might hurt him. Slowly, she began the tedious process of helping Dylan to his feet . She needed to think... what would she tell Astraeus... what would John do when he awoke. So many questions rattled around in her head.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Oct 11, 2007 4:04:12 GMT -5
Feeling himself squeezed slightly more, his voice produced a slight objection in the form of an incoherent grunt. Blinking slowly several times, he wished to respond to her comments but found himself quite unable. He gathered his thoughts enough to know that D'rorah was attempting to help him up, his body responding weakly and helping only minorly.
Finding his feet and using them unsteadily, his mind was still a blanket of pain. Attempting to push it aside, he was vaguely successful and managed to weasel his arm around her shoulders for support. Wishing he could give John a quick kick, he decided against it due to the obvious inability. His head lolling to rest on her shoulder, with an enormous effort his legs managed to shuffle along slowly. Using all of his concentration to focus on moving one foot ahead of the other, the pain in his head subsided briefly.
The hill leading up to Dylan's home was more of a challenge than he could have ever perceived. True, he had once crawled up the very same hill bleeding and in pain, but at least his head hadn't been smashed into a pavement. D'rorah doing a significant amount of the work, they finally reached the top of the hill and crept through the door as quietly as possible. Given his current silence and the effort she must be going through to keep him upright, they remained relatively quiet. Seeing the staircase before him, however, he groaned lightly.
Somehow, after what seemed an eternity of pain, they had ascended the staircase that Dylan now considered ridiculously long. If he'd been in a slightly less painful state of mind, he might have been grateful that his room was located so near to the stairs in comparison to the other options for bedrooms. Nudging through the door to his room, he released his arm from around her and simply crashed onto the bed, the efforts required to walk down a few roads, up a hill, and up a flight of stairs quite exhausting him.
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