Twelve is a Difficult Age
Who: Mozenrath, Severus Snape, Martha Jones
Where: Snape's cabin
When: During the age reversal flood, after this
Warnings: General angst, preteen woes and needyness. (Also initial part of the opening post is a retread of the closing comment in the last thread)
Mozenrath stared after Hoffman as he was left collapsed on the floor, white as a sheet, horrified at what the man had seen, so much that the second his attacker released him he'd scrambled to cover his right hand with his cloak. Realizing he was alone and no further attacks were imminent, he snatched up the gauntlet and dragged it back onto the wounded appendage. His throat hurt. His arm hurt. His forehead was forming a nice little goose-egg from where it'd been slammed into the wall. His breath hitched and he swallowed it back. There had simply been too much 'afraid' and too much 'pain' in the last few moments that it quickly the better of him. Unbidden, juvenile tears dotted the corners of his eyes and his jaw quivered as he hurried for his Warden's cabin.
He'd managed to contain most of the breakages in the dam before he arrived there, drying his eyes on his sleeve in frustration. Was he going to turn Hoffman in? Normally he would have jumped at the chance to point him out, to show that he had been in the right all along and that Hoffman did not require much provocation, but his Warden's reaction to their early spat was still clear in his mind. Mozenrath had to wonder if he wouldn't be told he had asked for this, too, and now he even wondered if he had.
No, he wasn't going to tell. He didn't want to think about it. Thinking about it just made it harder for him to contain himself. So when he reached Snape's door, he knocked quickly, hoping he could get past the initial request to enter as quickly and painlessly as possible.
Where: Snape's cabin
When: During the age reversal flood, after this
Warnings: General angst, preteen woes and needyness. (Also initial part of the opening post is a retread of the closing comment in the last thread)
Mozenrath stared after Hoffman as he was left collapsed on the floor, white as a sheet, horrified at what the man had seen, so much that the second his attacker released him he'd scrambled to cover his right hand with his cloak. Realizing he was alone and no further attacks were imminent, he snatched up the gauntlet and dragged it back onto the wounded appendage. His throat hurt. His arm hurt. His forehead was forming a nice little goose-egg from where it'd been slammed into the wall. His breath hitched and he swallowed it back. There had simply been too much 'afraid' and too much 'pain' in the last few moments that it quickly the better of him. Unbidden, juvenile tears dotted the corners of his eyes and his jaw quivered as he hurried for his Warden's cabin.
He'd managed to contain most of the breakages in the dam before he arrived there, drying his eyes on his sleeve in frustration. Was he going to turn Hoffman in? Normally he would have jumped at the chance to point him out, to show that he had been in the right all along and that Hoffman did not require much provocation, but his Warden's reaction to their early spat was still clear in his mind. Mozenrath had to wonder if he wouldn't be told he had asked for this, too, and now he even wondered if he had.
No, he wasn't going to tell. He didn't want to think about it. Thinking about it just made it harder for him to contain himself. So when he reached Snape's door, he knocked quickly, hoping he could get past the initial request to enter as quickly and painlessly as possible.