[Squire Dormitories] Bitter Sweet

by **Fallon** on August 15th, 2013, 1:50 pm

52nd Summer 513AV

“How’s your shoulder?”

In the dull light Fallon sat upon her bed, her knees pressed against her chin. Wrapped in her own little world, her own safety of layers and blankets. A thick bandage had been applied to her shoulder; the arm attached resting in a sling. It helped take the strain off whilst it healed – apparently. Orvin had placed himself next to her, wrapping his shaggy form around his master, his head resting upon his paws. He knew something was wrong, but knew not what to do about it. His rough tongue gave a lick every now and again, searching for an answer to make things better.

The wood floor groaned slightly, the shifting of weight of her patron from her crouch before her. Fingers were laced together, her lips drawn in a line. She had chosen to give her squire some space, thinking that if she dared encroach further that the girl would close up further. The last few days had been traumatic for her to say the least, a twisted series of events that left her broken mentally, physically and emotionally scared.

A state that Natasha worried she was going to recover from.

Her eyes turned to the crack in the door way. Beyond there was Kreig no doubt, listening in to the situation. He was the first who had seen Fallon in this state, and so far the only one who may have any idea on her mental state. Not that it would last long; word would spread quickly through the order and a man hunt for the criminals would begin. If Fallon would open up that was. And so far she had not said a word.

Releasing a sigh, her patron drummed her fingers against her knee and moved onto the next stage. She changed her approach, her tone and words, “Fallon, I know what’s happened to you… it’s painful and distressing. And the knights wants to help in bringing justice to…” there was a gesture to her, “But in order to do that, we need you to help us.”

Fallon’s dulled eyes shifted and turned to her patron, the ears of Orvin perking up and turning. Fingers clenched, her breathing quickened slightly as she remembered the events that had come and passed. Her own bitterness and weaknesses. They sharpened as her mind relived that time, the lacking control having consumed her. No one saved her from that fate. Throat constricted, her eyes wincing as she stared upon her patron, and then promptly looked away.

“You need to tell us what you know Fallon,” she kept her tone calm, “Anything and everything. Even if you do not think it is important. Please, help us help you. And bring justice.” The dull beat of her heart rung in her ears, the ever present ring that pulsed through. She could still feel their hold, their grasp, the forceful and humiliation that was played out. She wanted to answer, she wanted to help. But the heavy weight of it all pushed her down deeper in her own despair. She wanted it to stop. She wanted it to be a lie and for her to be able to fight back.

No. She wanted more than that. She wanted what had been stolen from her. She wanted those to understand what had been inflicted. She needed her strength and her heart. But where had her courage run to? It had little more than escaped to the air. Gone and vanished. Her throat tightened.

“Fallon, please. I implore you.”

It was nothing more than a low, guttural hiss. That escaped, dark eyes stared, jaw tensed muscles straining. The tone grew sharp, a gasp and a growl as a forced courage rose up from her crumbling, trembling depths, “Four. Men.” A hand grasped at her weak shoulder, the eyes clouding over, “All bigger” Her jaw clenched shut, lips forced into a narrow line as she pursed them, “Dark. Couldn’t see well. One bald. Another hairy and big,” her head looked away, eyes wincing as she felt the pressure rise against her. Her pulse quickened, eyes widening, nostrils flaring as she felt the creeping panic. Lips moved silently, the hiss falling to mute. Her patron leaned in, eyes watching those lips, the shaking frame and the crumbling of her squire. But she was there, and she caught every struggling word that dared to emerge.

“The quick one, the knifer… he, he… long hair…” there was a swallow, the thick heavy moisture accumulating in her eyes, “A sharp voice. Piercing.” She shook, her voice little more than a whisper. Orvin nudged against her, and her fingers in response stroked against his fur. There was a lick and a whine as she continued to stroke and feel, searching with her hands for a sense of calm. Searching for something stable within her companion. Eyes rested upon her as head bowed, unable to lift it anymore, “The last was small, spindly… he was… was…”

“Hush,” there was a gentle finger placed upon her lips. Eyes looked upon her patron, red, worn, tired of running. And most importantly frightened, “It is okay to be afraid. You are human, and you were just put through perhaps one of the most terrifying experiences of your life. And right now… now you need to recover.” There was a shake of the head, “Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything? If you can’t then it’s fine… I understand.”

Silence rested there once more, the girl having retreated back into her own world of safety. Her little void of nothing. There was no use chasing after her. Or perhaps more correctly she knew she could not chase the squire back into the recesses of her mind. Standing, Natasha looked down upon her, before making her way to the door.
“If you need anything, well… you know where Kreig is,” there was a shuffle of movement, “Same goes for if I can help. We are Sylirian Knights after all. And if we can’t… Never mind. Get your rest. I’ll call for you when it’s time.”
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by **Kreig Messer** on August 17th, 2013, 10:21 pm

He had not slept, he had been unable to since Fallon came back to the dormitory in a horrid state. Another night mare, another dark mark in his life where event’s that he had not even had the smallest margin of control plagued him with guilt. He had not slept… like a vigilant hound he stood outside the room. Even when they had assigned a knight outside the dorm room, Kreig kept himself in front of the girl’s room, keeping himself close in case Fallon required anything.

Even when Sera Natasha and entered the room, Kreig still stood beside the door, tired eyes looked at his patron as she entered. He wished he could enter himself, but another presence could discourage her…. And it was too painful to see her that way. A whole day he saw his friend locked up in another world inside her head, a whole day feeling useless as he knew not how to bring her out of this.

Near that emotion of uselessness was rage, cold yet utterly destructive rage. His ears focused, the small crack in the open doorway…. It offered the opportunity to listen, the opportunity to know whatever his Patron wished to learn. But at the very same time he wished he would not…. The voice of his broken friend would only bring heartache and more hatred towards those who hurt her.

At first Sera Natasha, their patron, tried to get her to speak. There was no voice from Fallon, Kreig didn’t blame her for not wishing to speak…. A hurt soul often wishes to keep silent of tragedy, he should know albeit in a different manner. He looked down at his own hands, an image of a young face popping into his mind and suddenly clinched his fists tightly as he banished it away…yes, who wishes to speak of tragedy?

Their Sera tried again, but that too also failed. There was no voice from Fallon… somehow that was both relieving and painful; Relieving in that he did not need to hear a broken voice, he did not need to hear a broken shell but it was painful in that shell was his friend, now reduced to a heaping mess and all that brought was more and more anger.

Third was the charm, as a broken soul began to relive horrid memories to bring a face to the orchestrators of this tragedy. Kreig listened intently, his soul shattering with each sorrowful word of despair that left Fallons mouth. His anger reaching new heights as he clenched fists so tightly that his nails began to dig into the skin, the right even dripping a small bit of blood.

He couldn’t bare it, he didn’t want but had to. He had to bring justice for his friend…for whatever good that did ‘Would she recover’ he thought ‘Would she ever be alive again?’ One of the many questions that plagued him as his head turned to look at the crack in the doorway. He could hear Orvin whine and try to comfort his master.

At the very least Kreig had faces to direct his rage at, four craven cowards who thankfully had not the foresight to silence their victim…. Yes, four faces for Kreig’s hand to rip off their disease ridden cadavers. Their would be no trial these men, their fate having been decided the moment they had done the deed. Yes, they were already dead and they didn’t know it… Kreig will be glad to make realize that soon enough.

Eventually the sorrow filled voice was silenced, his Sera silencing Fallon to not speak anymore for her own sake. A mention of his name had moving about a few inched from the door, the creaky floorboards giving him away. A tick or so passed and his patron left the room, examining Kreig’s face.

“ And how are you holding up?”

“Oh, just cheery…. I’ve an outlet for my rage. Are you going to stop me?” His patron shook her head in response, Kreig had to admit that it was odd. No words of his reckless behavior being admonished, no disapproving glance… but then, when he looked at his patrons he could see the same rage and pain he felt, the same despair gathered within her soul.

“You have my permission to do what you must Kreig, but you will not do it alone” She told him, Kreig simply stared as his brows furrowed, did that mean she would join him in this endeavor? Kreig wouldn’t be surprised. She then looked away and moved towards the door “ We have their numbers and their descriptions, I now must go inform the rest of the knights this…. After that, and only after, will you go after the scoundrels”

“But…”

“Kreig, I understand your rage….I can barely contain my own. But if you let it control you now, you could very well allow those very scoundrels a chance to run, do you want that?”

Kreig was silent, shaking his head as he looked away. He certainly didn’t want those scoundrels to know that they knew…yet.

“Once I pass on this information, you will tag along with Ser Markus. As long as you are with him you are free to exact justice on those who hurt your friend… and my student” The last words were laid with guilt, a mentor who failed to protect her student from danger. Kreig simply muttered a yes, his patron then walking out and closing the door behind her with a gentle slam.

Kreig then looked back at the girls room, Fallon’s room…. Then turned to the table in the hall, the book he had bought her those many days ago resting comfortably. He picked it up and grabbed a chair, setting it besides the door and sat comfortably, then opened the book and read from its pages aloud. He did not know if she could hear him…. He did not know if these words he read so awkwardly and terribly would comfort her, but he certainly hoped so…. Yes, he hoped.

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