Young Writers Society

((I'll riot if you don't tag me XD))

"Yes, 'm." He needed to get over this. Get his head in the game. Find that thing that had arisen when he was in the cages, the thing that had driven him to take the rose, to let the monster out. But it wasn't there. Just the fear.

(I'll tag you if I ever put it up here, or I'll email it to you on docs.)

She finished cleaning the wounds and touched one of the stripes lightly. Then she stood and strode over to the tub, removing the bandages. "I'm going to bind the wounds now," she told him. "There's not much else I can do except prescribe herbs for the pain. Have you got a shirt?"

((Yesssss))

"No, ma'm."

He shifted his position, sitting up more so his arms wouldn't be so in the way of the bindings. He still didn't make a sound, but his breath caught at the movement, fingers closing around the edge of the cot to steady himself. Vision swimming. Flickering with spots. Christ. He could feel it now. He'd preferred nothingness.

"I'll find you one, then." She set to work binding his wounds. "Wait here while I fetch it and try not to move." Her eyes flickered to his fingers. "Feeling it now, are you?"

The young man nodded mutely. If only he could bring the cold back on purpose. But he couldn't. It did as it would and he was merely stuck picking up the pieces. Even when it could've been useful.

(“Haelar, ðurner á detta kvinnu líse og gera henn blessigna að i de liv eftir detta liv friður fitta.” That's the first line in the Sera story and you'll never guess what it means.
"Haelar, look down on this woman and bless her to find peace in the life after this life.")

"Well, I'll give you some herbs before I go for the shirt." She finished the binding and stood, heading over to a small back room. A moment later, she returned with a rolled-up leaf containing some odd green paste. "Eat the whole package," she instructed. "And don't touch anything while I'm gone."

((oh who died))

He wasn't one to object to orders given by a doctor, at least when he could avoid it. Not that he hadn't had his fair share of blowing people off and hurting himself further, but generally, it was for his own damn good. He took it with a muttered 'thanks,' eyeing the leaf for only a moment before he downed it.

(Sera died. I'm going back in time.)

Sera nodded and left swiftly.

A few minutes later, a short, thin-faced young man with pale blue eyes and hair of a similar color to Mattathias' wandered in, clutching an embroidery hoop in one hand. Attached to it was a sloppily-done stitching of a snake.

"Sera?" he called, looking around.

((Go away))
((She's always alive in my headcanon))
((I don't like your version))

He closed his eyes, forehead against his hand, breathing. Trying to keep the pain off his features. His gaze flickered open when he heard the footsteps, eyes coming up to see another. His features resembled those of the other Ashes he'd seen--hair similar to Mattathias', eyes like Gaius'--but he wasn't one that he'd already met. Was this the Tiberius that Marcella had mentioned?

"She just left," Cornyx said. Embroidery was a strange pass time for a nobleman, but he didn't mention it. There was no reason to. Besides, what was it his business what someone else did in his spare time? "She'll be back in a few minutes."

(So Sera's an immortal being?)

The young man immediately took an interest to Cornyx. "You're really tall," he noted, approaching him. "Where'd she go?" His eyes found the tattoo on Cornyx's forearm. "What's that? Is it a tattoo?"

((Yeah apparently))

He hadn't expected the questions. He'd expected to be ignored. The man seemed more oblivious than he did anything else, words coming out of his mouth seemingly before they'd been thought through. Strange. Not what he would've expected out of an Ash. Maybe there was just a resemblance to the family?

"She w-w-went to get me a shirt. Yessir, it is."

"Did you lose yours? You can have one of mine if you want. I got a bunch of new ones a couple days ago." The young man grabbed a stool and pulled it up, seating himself in front of Cornyx. "What's your name?"

"No, it's alright," he said. "She should be back soon." The way the man interacted vaguely reminded Cornyx of himself, when he'd been younger. Before he'd really caught onto the fact that social skills existed.

"Cornyx," he introduced himself. "What's yours?"

"I'm Tiberius Ash." Tiberius paused, seeming to lose steam. Then his eyes lit up once more, and he held up the embroidery hoop. "Do you like my snake? I made it myself, but I need Sera to help me do the tie-off."

Ah, so he was an Ash. Duly noted. He leaned forward slightly to see the snake more clearly--he'd lost his glasses at one point or another, so spotting details was a bit challenging, but it wasn't too hard to make out. Crooked, but the other man seemed so proud of it that it seemed akin to kicking a puppy to point it out.

"It's way better than I could do," he said, which was the truth, since he'd never touched an embroidery hoop in his life. "Did Sera teach you how to do it?"