[Crackplot] Boom tomorrow. Always a boom tomorrow.

[big_bad_melkor]

Morgoth has been observing. More to the point, he's been paying shrewd attention. The witches - by which he means the Edain and the Elda who have fought him before - are distracted. He has noticed the Merlin's increased reluctance to use magic. All this became very convenient... when he saw that suddenly there was a breach in the fabric of this

Comments

[fallenlomion]

Maeglin wanders in from outside, a sense of uneasiness crawling down his spine, but not intense enough to get him really on his toes. There's always something to be uneasy about, after all - he doesn't want to overreact to everything. Even if he is not pleased with the past few days and all over fuming, again, about his treatment (as he thinks of it) in Gondolin.

However, something, or nothing, catches his eye, and he wheels around, nervously tense, and grabs a small table reflexively.

Maeglin has good reflexes, but not quite good enough from that distance. And there is nothing he hates more than pain. Screaming, therefore, curled into himself amid the wreckage from the table and, well, bleeding. Though it seems to be mostly superficial.

[elven_irs]

Caranthir removes the hand from the wound, and gently brings it under Maeglin's head. "Keep it there. You don't want any accidents happening."

[fallenlomion]

His eyes are still a little wide and glassy, and he licks his lips, nervously, and doesn't ask what's meant by accidents.

"Please, just..."

[elven_irs]

"Hush. Trust me." He presses the biting piece back into his nephews mouth.

[fallenlomion]

Get it over with, he would finish, but bites down, hard, instead, and goes back to focusing on the wall, trying not to let his breathing speed up and trying not to shake.

[elven_irs]

Caranthir goes ahead with it, then, cauterizing the wound by pressing the poker into it, not violently, but firmly.

[fallenlomion]

And he does scream, loudly, heels hitting the floor or the bed, going rigid to keep from coiling up around the center of the pain.

[elven_irs]

Caranthir doesn't keep it there longer than he has to, and when it's done, he washes the wound, gently. "Good boy," he tells Maeglin. "I'm proud of you."

[fallenlomion]

He keeps his eyes closed and doesn't respond, expression tight, lips pressed together again, though his heartbeat is still accelerated.

His head hangs down a little.

[elven_irs]

Caranthir doesn't wait. He proceeds to stitching him, cleanly but without sophisticating. Scars, he says, are the stuff of manhood. So there.

[fallenlomion]

Well, still holding still, and managing to be quiet this time, even if it hurts and he's still kind of in shock that's really doing more to his state of being than the actual injury.

[elven_irs]

So if the stitching goes one without further incident, Caranthir eventually cuts the thread and pats Maeglin on the cheek, gently. "Good boy. We'll make a man out of you yet."

[fallenlomion]

He makes a very faint sound, and goes a little limp, not quite rocking back and forth, but he almost wants to. He's just...scared, and lost, and doesn't know what to do with either.

[elven_irs]

Caranthir sighs, a little. "Sleep. It hurts less when you sleep."

A beat. "I'll tell your mother about this."

[fallenlomion]

"--mother?" he lifts his head up a little, kind of pathetically.

Sorry, Cara, we know you're not really used to dealing with this kind of stuff.

[elven_irs]

"I'll send her your way." Firmly. "And I'll get you something for the pain. Sleep, kid. It won't be long."