(no subject)
[[No journal with him, as he's currently in the middle of the forest somewhere. In response to this. Let's pretend this happened about a month ago? Though, Naesala's been in the forest anyway and hasn't returned to town.]]
He didn't know what day it was.
He didn't particularly care. The last few days had passed in a haze of pain and light and dark, and he hadn't even had the energy to change back. When he opened his eyes this day, he realized he didn't really know where he was either, and that was somewhat troubling.
Oh. Tibarn.
Hah.
Well, now, Tibarn had had his chance, hadn’t he? And Naesala was still alive. He’d let Tibarn have his one shot - he couldn’t restore the lives of the hawks, but he could let justice happen. Justice had decided to let him live. All the better for him. He tentatively stretched his wings, keeping himself from wincing at the pain.
He caught his reflection in a pool of water nearby and would have made a sound of distaste, if birds could do that. He looked worse than a fledgling just hatched. The bird in the water stared back at him, and he wondered whether looks really could kill. Ah, if all of life were like this - here and now, there was no Tibarn, no Kilvas, and no kingship. He could imagine worse lives than this.
A life of ease and comfort wasn’t for him, it seemed. Bracing himself for the pain, he transformed back into his human state, where he could actually tend to his wounds. Nothing broken, at least. Justice seemed to be liking him more and more these days, didn’t she? Perhaps he owed Lady Luck a favor there. The sharp pain coming from everywhere in his body stopped his musings short, though, and he steeled himself to take a deep breath. Ugh. Damn hawks. He deserved it, but did Tibarn really have to attack so hard? He liked his life, thank you very much.
He’d managed to bandage the last of his cuts with pieces from his clothing before his world started spinning again. This will just be an endless cycle, won’t it, he thought, gripping the trunk of the tree beside him hard enough to make marks on his hands. The wave soon passed, and he was left trying to recover.
Damn hawks.
He didn't know what day it was.
He didn't particularly care. The last few days had passed in a haze of pain and light and dark, and he hadn't even had the energy to change back. When he opened his eyes this day, he realized he didn't really know where he was either, and that was somewhat troubling.
Oh. Tibarn.
Hah.
Well, now, Tibarn had had his chance, hadn’t he? And Naesala was still alive. He’d let Tibarn have his one shot - he couldn’t restore the lives of the hawks, but he could let justice happen. Justice had decided to let him live. All the better for him. He tentatively stretched his wings, keeping himself from wincing at the pain.
He caught his reflection in a pool of water nearby and would have made a sound of distaste, if birds could do that. He looked worse than a fledgling just hatched. The bird in the water stared back at him, and he wondered whether looks really could kill. Ah, if all of life were like this - here and now, there was no Tibarn, no Kilvas, and no kingship. He could imagine worse lives than this.
A life of ease and comfort wasn’t for him, it seemed. Bracing himself for the pain, he transformed back into his human state, where he could actually tend to his wounds. Nothing broken, at least. Justice seemed to be liking him more and more these days, didn’t she? Perhaps he owed Lady Luck a favor there. The sharp pain coming from everywhere in his body stopped his musings short, though, and he steeled himself to take a deep breath. Ugh. Damn hawks. He deserved it, but did Tibarn really have to attack so hard? He liked his life, thank you very much.
He’d managed to bandage the last of his cuts with pieces from his clothing before his world started spinning again. This will just be an endless cycle, won’t it, he thought, gripping the trunk of the tree beside him hard enough to make marks on his hands. The wave soon passed, and he was left trying to recover.
Damn hawks.