Entry tags:
Think happy thoughts!
Who: Summoner and who ever manages to find him.
Where: On the island in the top room of the lighthouse
When: Saturday Morning.
Style: Prose.
Status: Open
The worst part is over. That confusion, most of the fear, that's gone. For the most part Summoner's managed to stay alone, alone while he's wingless, while the plates that make up the connection points for his wings lay flat over his back and he's unable to soar. That's where the real fear lied after, that vulnerability caused from taking something so precious from him, taking his flight option away from him. It was conflicting and terrifying and Lysunder hadn't realized how different everything was when he couldn't take to the skies. He hadn't realized how much he relied on flying, and hadn't realized how weak he was. With his wings, at least it made sense that his body always felt so light. He flew and hovered a lot after all. But being grounded this long without the option? He's now realizing how different his body actually feels, and he's thanking the mother grub that he's been alone for most of it.
The fact that this was a molt was something he had realized finally as well. The way his wings stripped, it was obvious, though it was hard to figure out because molting was more of a bird thing than an insect thing (at least wing specific molting), but then again, he was neither, wasn't he? He was a troll, and he had no knowledge about how wings worked for his kind, nor could he know that his body would want to refresh them. It was good to know, sure, and to be honest, his wings needed the refresher since they didn't really heal and he had to fix them by hand. But still, to be flightless this long isn't something he planned, isn't something he prepared for. And neither is this sudden pain jolting through his body from his back.
"Ah... w-w..what?"
A breath, curling up into himself a bit more, his eyes blinking more than usual as he feels the pain start to grow, an ache in his mid and upper back. Summoner crouches away from the wall he had been propped against, the various shredded away wing pieces decorating the floor around him, and he places a hand to the ground, putting either knee, bent, under him. Another jolt of pain and he closes his eyes, breathing out of clenched fangs. This much, was it supposed to.. hurt this much? And... already? He couldn't even feel-
"AH... HOLY F-" A gasp and then a higher pitched 'hnn' sounds as he crouches down, forehead almost against the floor. Summoner can feel a splitting, like... popping feel of the skin on his back. Like someone is slowly stabbing him, pressing a blade point in softly and just slowly edging it deeper and deeper. But...it's the opposite, it's poking into his flesh from the inside and in two places. The pain starting from either spot under the two plate clusters near his shoulder blades.
"This slow, ha... are you kidding me?"
Where: On the island in the top room of the lighthouse
When: Saturday Morning.
Style: Prose.
Status: Open
The worst part is over. That confusion, most of the fear, that's gone. For the most part Summoner's managed to stay alone, alone while he's wingless, while the plates that make up the connection points for his wings lay flat over his back and he's unable to soar. That's where the real fear lied after, that vulnerability caused from taking something so precious from him, taking his flight option away from him. It was conflicting and terrifying and Lysunder hadn't realized how different everything was when he couldn't take to the skies. He hadn't realized how much he relied on flying, and hadn't realized how weak he was. With his wings, at least it made sense that his body always felt so light. He flew and hovered a lot after all. But being grounded this long without the option? He's now realizing how different his body actually feels, and he's thanking the mother grub that he's been alone for most of it.
The fact that this was a molt was something he had realized finally as well. The way his wings stripped, it was obvious, though it was hard to figure out because molting was more of a bird thing than an insect thing (at least wing specific molting), but then again, he was neither, wasn't he? He was a troll, and he had no knowledge about how wings worked for his kind, nor could he know that his body would want to refresh them. It was good to know, sure, and to be honest, his wings needed the refresher since they didn't really heal and he had to fix them by hand. But still, to be flightless this long isn't something he planned, isn't something he prepared for. And neither is this sudden pain jolting through his body from his back.
"Ah... w-w..what?"
A breath, curling up into himself a bit more, his eyes blinking more than usual as he feels the pain start to grow, an ache in his mid and upper back. Summoner crouches away from the wall he had been propped against, the various shredded away wing pieces decorating the floor around him, and he places a hand to the ground, putting either knee, bent, under him. Another jolt of pain and he closes his eyes, breathing out of clenched fangs. This much, was it supposed to.. hurt this much? And... already? He couldn't even feel-
"AH... HOLY F-" A gasp and then a higher pitched 'hnn' sounds as he crouches down, forehead almost against the floor. Summoner can feel a splitting, like... popping feel of the skin on his back. Like someone is slowly stabbing him, pressing a blade point in softly and just slowly edging it deeper and deeper. But...it's the opposite, it's poking into his flesh from the inside and in two places. The pain starting from either spot under the two plate clusters near his shoulder blades.
"This slow, ha... are you kidding me?"
no subject
He reached behind him and pulled out an old ceramic jug. Three 'x' marks printed on the front. "How's dis?"
Bugs is pointedly not looking at his back. A little out of politeness but mostly because he isn't used to seeing people bleed. Even if just looks like really thick Tang.
A small pause, "Now dis for you or for dat action back der."
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"Uh..." He starts, staring at the jug for a moment before kicking back and taking a heavy swallow, eyes squinting when he pulls it from his lips. Summoner coughs a little and smiles slightly, looking up to the rabbit with a harsh laugh. "Oh, fuck, haa, that'll do." A few more coughing laughs, taking back another swig.
"Both. Mostly me, heh."
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"Ya sure you're just a troll?" A pause to watch that second swig, "Cause ya drink like a fish." At least drunk would equal numb to most of the pain. Growing wings did not look like it tickled.
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"Heh, no where near a fish," a kind of bitter chuckle before he takes another swig and sets the jar down. Summoner soon moves to sit with his legs crossed under him, hunched, arms in his lap.
"Not really at my best right now-" Jerk of pain, eyes closing, "Bugs..."
no subject
"Yeah? Well ya keep goin' da way ya are and I'm pretty sure you'll be woise." He straightens a bit at the sign of pain and once Summoner's eyes are shut, Bug's let's a little worried frown on his face.
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You know, when he's not curled up in pain on the floor.
"Heh, well I think I'll wai-wait till those drinks hit me, damnit, wh-which... ha... I hope is soon." He cranes his neck, moving a hand up to sift through his dyed red hair, a mess compared to what it usually was. Another beat, twitching a bit, trying to regain himself before looking back at Bugs with as much a smile as he can muster.
"Why you even up here?"
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"Came up ta look for some carrots," One of his few weaknesses unfortunately, "An' got caught by bad weather." Not that it was noticeable. He'd dried off enough already.
It's a change of subject. Pulling attention away from Summoner but given the other kid's personality Bugs can't blame him.
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Yeah, he'd rather not focus on the feeling at his back, the sound of cracking and crunching as the points move and push through his skin is enough. For now he's trying his best to just think about the weather, by Bugs is here, and partially about where to get good carrots.
"Heh, guess it's a good time f-for...hah... for this to be happening then. I'm more of a clear skies kind of troll."
no subject
"Hope dat's soon. Da grocer told me there were a bunch of wild carrots growin' around somewhere." Bugs can be a distraction. A very good one. "Been a while since I had any."
He has the decency to look somewhat sheepish for a moment, "Heh I jus' don't have the best sense a direction I guess."
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The troll lets out a long breath, closing his eyes for a moment.
"Don't you? Well you can always learn. I think having a good sense of direction is, ha, heh, pretty useful... Can get you out of trouble."
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"Heh, and lose my best gag? Tanks doc but I'll stick to gettin' in trouble."
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"Gag? You... you mean for uh, your show, right? Back home?"
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The grin grows a little bigger and he nods, that left turn at Albuquerque has put him in so much trouble. "Heh, yeah. It's da easiest way to take da story outta the States." Not that it makes much sense, but it does in a weird way.
"Er, that States being da country I'm from in my woild." He has to remember the whole other world thing that happens in this place.
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"Heh, that wasn't as uh, bad as before, think the liquor's kicking in." A glance down, then up to Bugs, slowly sitting up again. "Thanks...uh, again, for that."
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When Lysu glances up again Bugs just blinks before shaking his head, "Don't mention it kid. I can help wit da pain but you're da one whose gonna clean up this mess." He looks idly at the tips of his gloved hands in a parody of examining his nails, "I don't do floors."
He looks at the jug and then smirks a little, "Of course I could make tings work faster. Ya know, mallets work pretty well as an anesthetic." It's a joke, his tone making that fact rather obvious but he makes sure that his face reads true. Just to add that little twinge to the gag. Anticipation and timing. He can't lose those.
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But even through that he can see the rabbit's uneasiness and he purses his lips, licking the with a slight sigh.
"Thanks again, for seeing me, heh, but y-you should probably head back down below, all right? You- you don't really need to see this. I know it probably, uh, isn't that enjoyable of a show."
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"Kid, I sat tru everyone of Clark Gable's pictures." He shmirked and leaned back again, putting his hands behind his head, "That was not enjoyable." He closed his eyes and shrugged. He'd leave but only if it was what Lysu wanted. For the trolls sake not just to keep Bugs' stomach from ending up in his throat.
"And dat guy still beat me at the Academy Awards. People have no taste."
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"Maybe," he starts, feeling his throat lock up for a moment. "Maybe stay for a bit longer, and then be off... I don't want you- you here for the whole thing, but," a small smile, gnawing the inside of his lip a little.
"Gotta say your company isn't completely unwanted."
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"Once da weather clears, I'll go wit it. Deal?" He isn't sure how long that gives him but he can at least make sure that Lysu is comfortable for most of whatever the heck he's going through.
"Heh, guess you're stuck wit me den. I don't get compliments like dat too often."
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"All right... And really? A suave guy like you, heh, I'd expect you to get a range of compliments all the time?"
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"Maybe if I had a feminine co-star but heh I usually play dat role."