Exhausted Reflections
A week since he’d laid his head on a pillow at all. He wasn’t even sure if he was supposed too, or if he deserved it but tonight he couldn’t bring himself to care. Seven days ago he’d been dropped bare naked off an airship with nothing but a parachute as he landed within the Barens. His magic had been taken from him, his bond with Cyrus was gone so he could hear his beloved’s words no more. Days before this he’d been forced to burn everything he owned and held dear, all of his worldly possessions including the very clothes on his back. And he was forced to burn half his face blinding himself in one eye for how long he had no idea. In those seven days that followed he’d been forced to do things he never thought in all his life he’d ever willingly do let alone be forced to learn. Despite his disgust he was forced to gut and skin a Plainstrider, forced to hold parts of the beast he would never admit to aloud. Forced to create clothing for himself, Rowanora and Euphemia out of the strider’s hide and the leftover bits of parachute material and rope they had on hand. To make it worse he had to do all of this with just one eye, no tools and half his face burned and twisted to the point he didn’t even recognize himself anymore. He’d managed to survive eating only what they could scavenge, bits of animals he never thought he’d eat and sleeping on the cold hard ground beneath a tree. He didn’t hardly sleep the first two days, terrified of what might crawl on him once he slid his eyes shut but by the third exhaustion had won. His skin was burned to a crisp, every part of him that wasn’t covered in the clothing he managed to make was bright red. On the fourth night he was starting to blister making it so he couldn’t lay on his back and was forced to lay on his chest. Again sleep was almost impossible when your skin was literally on fire even in the cool night breeze. He reflected on the days passed, on his conversations with Euphemia. She’d told him that his silver tongue was a gift and to never be ashamed to use people as he had a knack for making others do his dirty work. Granted while he was there she saw to it that he was forced to do just as much work as Row and her, but he’d impressed her when he managed to find a Druid while collecting snakes and conned him into capturing them for him. He even helped him collect the frogs with the most poison in their skins. While he’d never acted much in his life he was pleased with his own poor helpless act though truthfully it wasn’t hard as pathetic as he looked. The night came when they took on the Taruen camp, hopeful that it would be a proper gift for the Father and that they’d prove themselves worthy to become Knights. They’d prepped and prepared for this night for many days now and their home-made blow darts were now ready for the test. The magi hadn’t used such a primitive weapon before in his life but he was confident to try as he knew he had to be to survive. By the end of the encounter he shocked himself as he managed to help down two of the large bovine beings. He himself only suffered a minor scratch where one of their arrows marked his arm but missed its mark by mere inches. He was lucky. He biggest shock however came with the command to finish the taruen off with the use of one of their great axe’s. The magi had never used such a weapon before but he knew the basic concept of how to swing one. What he hadn’t expected was the bloodbath that came after splitting the not one but two heads open with said weapon. Truthfully he didn’t believe he had it in him to inflict such damage, but there he stood coated in their blood with their heads split open. Out of all the acts he had committed in his life this was by far the most savage yet. At last there was to be one night spent in a proper tent and laying on furs at least instead of the ground, and plenty of grains and bread to eat from their stolen stash that he could stomach food without having to hold his breath to get it down his throat. Of course he never got the chance to enjoy the furs much as by then his sunburn had gotten bad enough it hurt to move, and with each movement the blisters that festered along his back and shoulders threatened to pop. One week had passed since he saw his beloved last, for all he knew he had been dumped somewhere much worse and may not even have survived. His mind feared this, but his heart knew that he was strong enough to survive this and had fared much worse in his days past. One week of surviving in what for the Magi at least the closest thing to hell he’d known. There were things that could have made this all worse but he didn’t consider himself lucky to have avoided them. There was nothing lucky about being forced into such primitive conditions and being stripped so completely bare of all that he was. But then again it wasn’t the first time he’d been stripped of such even if this was the more extreme of recoveries he was forced to endure. When Father had come to pick them up at last the Magi in truth was so exhausted, sore and honestly grateful he was numb to any fear that things could get worse. Numb enough that once their briefing was over and he was told he was to undergo a new trial under Elder Bloodquiver’s eyes (or lack there of) he didn’t even flinch. Sure he was curious what was next but there was only a small handful of things he desired most as he finally appeared before the Tower he had come to call home. A bath, a bed, and the arms of his Fiance. The bath came first, and with some company he honestly didn’t expect. But he welcomed the Jester and his oddities as the other man and self-proclaimed demon offered him some pleasantries he’d been denied FAR too long. A mineral soak bath of some sort he’d probably regret later to ease his burned skin and blisters. A hand at washing his hair and damaged skin and an interesting new woman who oddly was willing to both clean and wash his pathetic excuse of clothing he’d made and even bring him a nice warm meal. He had expected NONE of this but on this night he was so tired and drained he selfishly soaked in every bit of the pampering. By the nights end he at long last found a bed that was not his own... he’d stayed true to that much of the trial at least by avoiding the comforts of home and the smell of Cyrus he missed so much. He’d found his way to the servants quarters and a stray bed he could lay himself on for even the most brief of comforts as he attempted to sleep. His hair braided now and laying over his mending shoulder, the burns on his skin still hot and painful but he ignored them as his body demanded rest. His only comfort was knowing that Cyrus was alive, and that he would see him tomorrow when Father brought him home as well. At long last, he’d get to lay in his arms again and for the first time he honestly didn’t care where they ended up. He was tired, so tired and everything around him was burning which led to strange feverish thoughts and dreams already plaguing his mind as he laid there in the silence alone. “Please come home...” (( Mentions to: @high-inquisitor , @euphemiacrowsong, @demetrius-devereaux, @sheltips , @taillefer ))