( :rubs head: I'm.. late.. whoops.. ) -- Outside the Weyr

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Date Posted: 19:24:19 03/19/05 Sat
Author: Telomm - [Brown]
Subject: ( :rubs head: I'm.. late.. whoops.. )
In reply to: LG 's message, "((OOC: Oh, and...))" on 22:29:30 02/27/05 Sun

Telomm listens to the handler for a few moments, still laying on his back to work out the kinks in it. He winces when H'rrison returns with the pot and the scent of metallic blood peaks again. The boy struggles upright at the sound of stirring hatchlings, waiitng to see if his would come to him. To his disappointment, the brown just whines and opens its jaws for feeding. Telomm gingerly grasps the wher and pulls it to his chest. It smells blood on his clothes and gums them, trying to get more. The boy chuckles and croons quietly to the little brown, positioning to get more porridge.

Then Yima mentions the bond, and he pauses. I have to cut myself? he runs over the though again and again, and decides that she wasn't lying, simply because the goldhandler wasn't the type for that subtle rubbish. When Mikhal finishes, Telomm asks in a low voice 'Does it hurt much?' before retrieving the knife himself. For an instant, the brown seems interested, but soon returns to looking for food, and has to be restrained by the boy's arm. Telomm fumbles to poise the knife above one palm, both hands trembling. The wher chirps, sensing his fear. Not about to be undermined by Yima, and wanting to remain on her good side as much as possible, the boy slits a small hole in his thumb, gasping in shock. Fresh blood runs down his hand, warm and wet in the darkness. The brown's tongue laps up the fallen liquid and immediately begins to suckle the rest, until Telomm begins to feel quite woozy. In a burst of realistation he tugs his thumb from the wher's maw with a comically sharp shplop noise, procuring a whine from the creature. He lets Yima bandage his hand before again feeding slurry to the little brown, who reaches his fill more quickly this time.

Telomm lays down on his side, letting go of the brown, expecting it to return to Yimask. But.. it doesn't. Instead it flops out beside his own gut, which is still comfortably warm, and snuggles against it for a few minutes, before shuffling to the gold's side once again. The boy yawns and lays out, eyes closing, and drifts off, unable to help himself.

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Replies:

Head meets desk -- Manthenre, 16:55:49 03/24/05 Thu