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Subject: Sitting in deep thought Author: Madjael [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] Date Posted: 11:14:22 01/04/03 Sat Madjael was tired. Tired beyond all belief. He sat on his own in the corner of the barracks, smoking like a chimmney as he always did when he wanted to be left alone. His face to look at, was pale, the skin stretched tight and gaunt marred only by a thin deep red cut that crossed his left cheek and a thin spattering of blood across his forehead. There was no one else in the barracks to see him like this. They had all, including Cirad, returned home, to wives and children after the attack the previous night. But Madjael had close to nowhere to go, just to his mother's quarters where he knew he would not receive a warm reception. He drew his knees up to his bare, blackened chest resting his weary head upon them. The blood on his forehead dripped down onto the brown leather of his trousers, as did the old sweat still in his dirty blond hair. (AN - have forgotten what colour his hair is. Am going with blond cos we need a blond guy who is most definately male. Unlike Legolas...) Madjael wondered if Namun had got back to the palace the night he'd left her with the young man at the tavern. Was she okay? Would she think at all about what he'd said to her? Would she believe him? He sighed and then winced from a sharp pain in his ribs. Targan had told him in the early hours that Madjael had probabaly broken a least two ribs. Guess I should go to the healing houses, he thought to himself rising slowly to his feet doing his best to ignore the pain that covered his body. Grabbing a long leather coat he stepped out into the cold air. [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]