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 Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 1:13 am
I actually have two versions of this story. A long version and an edited one which I submitted recently for an assignment...
This is the edited version (since its shorter, I'll post the other one in a second post)
~~**~~
‘Outcast.’ ‘Man-whore.’
The seat was hard beneath me and my neck and shoulder muscles were becoming sore from my bowed head.
‘Freak.’ ‘f*****t.’
My sweaty clasped hands were beginning to irritate me but I dared not move them lest my prayers remain unanswered.
‘Wanker.’ ‘Queer.’
These words seemed to be my only partner on a day like today. Crossing myself I stood and left the church, pulling my jacket tighter around my body against the chill air.
They were there, waiting for me. Eyes widening in alarm, I bolted, running through all the narrow streets and alleyways, trying to lose them. Gasping I turned another corner and kept running, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my pulse thudding loudly in my ears. My legs felt wobbly, as if they would give out under me at any moment but I knew what would become of me were that to happen and the fear of this put a new burst of speed into my sprint. I was long since lost but past caring.
The sounds of my pursuers seemed to be getting closer but I was too afraid to look behind to confirm this. Every now and then I would hear them curse or tauntingly call out abuse. I, on the other hand, saved my breath.
Rounding another corner into a narrow alley I skidded to a horrified stop. It was a dead end; a high brick wall blocked this end of the alley from the other. "Oh no," I said quietly, turning to see four of my pursuers halt at the mouth of the alley. I seemed to have lost two but that was of little comfort considering the other four. "No, no, no, " I muttered as I took and involuntary step back.
The thugs advanced upon me and it felt as though my throat would close up with fear. Nonetheless I refused to go down without a fight. Bunching my fists I braced myself as they came at me.
I jerked awake from the memory-dream, just as the first blows would have struck, in the same room I have been in for the past week. The sun was shining in through a crack in the curtains and I turned my head away, annoyed. I had barely seen my host since that first night; all my meals were brought to me by what I assumed to be a butler of sorts. The man didn't speak to me or answer any questions I asked, no matter how trivial so I had given up, merely accepting the meal with a thanks to which he replied with a nod and left. Yesterday I had felt up to walking around but when I tried to leave I found the door locked. I tried once more last night but it was in vain.
Sighing I rolled over onto my side. I was bored and lonely and hadn't gone to church in a week which made me feel miserable. I was under house arrest by a stranger.
Throwing the covers back I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off my nightshirt and examining my body in a full-length mirror. Before me sat a seventeen year old guy who looked no more than fifteen, scattered bruises over his relatively well formed but by no means muscular body, black hair tussled from sleep and piercing blue eyes that just looked bored. There were only three pads strapped to my body with light bandaging, two of which had been weeping during the night and needed changing. The other wounds had healed up well, most had scabbed over, a couple even revealed a slightly puckered, pink looking fresh scar from where the scab had fallen away.
I still couldn't get over the fact that my injuries hadn't been worse. It just didn't make sense. I was sure that I had been close to death when my host found me and yet all I had were a few cuts and a lot of bruises. No broken bones or anything. Shrugging, I washed myself in the basin water on the bedside table and dressed. The clothes I was wearing, simple brown trousers and a loose white shirt, I found sitting on top of the dark oak chest at the end of the bed the second time I awoke. I was just looking for where I had misplaced the hairbrush when a knock came at the door. Believing it merely to be the butler with fresh dressings and breakfast, I didn't pause in my search.
"Well it's good to see you up and about."
I spun around in surprise. There before me stood the stranger, my host, taking the job of the butler by bringing in a tray with a covered breakfast and a small satchel containing the dressings. Placing the tray on the desk he turned to face me with a smile. "What, no greeting? I'm sorry I haven't stopped in to see you while you were awake; I had other... matters to see to," he said.
I blushed faintly when he mentioned my silence, but he didn't give me a chance to apologise so I didn't. Instead I stood rather awkwardly off to the side. Before now I had thought of a dozen and one ways our next meeting would go and all the things I would say, ask and do. Now I could do none of them. This was the man I had spent my time day dreaming the good and bad about. The first few days of the week, I admit, I fantasized about him but then as my 'stay' grew longer and I grew restless, I began to imagine all kinds of horrible things in my anger. And now all I could do was stare. His brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a red hair wrap, like the first time I saw him. His clothes were the same style as mine but the shirt was the same red as the hair wrap.
His smile faltered a little when I didn’t answer but he said, "Sit down and eat. I'll have a look and see how you’re healing."
I could think of nothing to say to this so I merely obliged, sitting at the desk as I took my shirt off and hung it over the back of the chair, eating the scrambled eggs and sausages before me.
"Well you seem to be healing well," he commented as he removed the soiled dressings. He grunted then in distaste and said, "These will need to be cleaned."
"Thank-you," I finally said, finding my voice at last. "Not just for now but for when you first, you know, picked me up." My voice was quiet and I wasn't looking at him but he paused for a moment in his administrations.
Uncapping a bottle of some dark red liquid, he dabbed some onto a cloth, saying, "Truth to tell I don't know why I did. Bear with me a moment." He then dabbed the cloth on the closest infected cut. I gasped and winced before I could stop myself; it stung horribly. "I certainly wondered about it afterwards," he continued, picking up where he left off. He chuckled then and said, "It was an impulse I guess."
"Then you didn't recognise me from the other day?" I asked; I had in part hoped that was why he had done so, though I had no idea why, it just somehow seemed important.
"Recognise you?" He asked in confusion.
I winced. I would have thought he would have recognised me at least by now; after all, I had thought about him ever since that chance meeting. "I nearly ran into you that day it had been raining," I reminded him.
"Oh right," he said, binding clean dressings to my body. "No, I didn't, you were so banged up lying there in the dirt and grime I didn't give a thought as to who you were. Should I have?" His tone was almost accusing so I shook my head, not really knowing what he meant. "Well anyway, I didn't recognise you till you were cleaned up. Just what happened anyway?"
There it was, the dreaded question. There was no way I could tell him the real reason, not yet anyway; what if he shared their sentiments on the matter? Instead I hedged around it, saying, "I got into a fight."
He scoffed at that. "Well I could see that, can still see it infact. I meant what started it? Fights don't just start for no reason.”
'This one did,' I felt like saying, but didn't. I had to come up with something fast but that was conflicting with my unwillingness to lie to him. "My beliefs conflicted with theirs'," I said finally.
He sighed as he finished his ministrations and stood. "I hope you grow to trust me sometime," he said, his voice nonchalant as if commenting on the weather, but I somehow felt as though I had made a mistake in lying. It was too late to go back now however.
He moved out of my vision for a moment and, after finishing my breakfast, I pulled my shirt back over my head. Feeling a brush glide through my hair I turned to see the stranger standing behind me with the lost brush.
"I was looking for that earlier," I said as he forcefully turned my head back to the front. "I can see to that," I protested, though I didn't move to stop him. Truth to tell I rather enjoyed him brushing my hair and didn't want him to stop.
He seemed to sense my true feelings, however, as he merely chuckled but didn't stop. "I merely wish to get it to its former glory," he said.
I blushed a little at that. It was true, I had always taken great pride in making my hair nice and felt a warm spot in my chest ignite when he noticed.
"Done," he said after he finished plaiting it. I turned in my chair to face him then. "Now that you seem to be moving around I guess I can allow you to access the gardens. If you leave your room, turn right and follow the passage. At the end are some glass doors and through them are the gardens. Don't overdo it though; I don't want your fever coming back." With that he turned to leave.
"Wait," I said suddenly. He paused, his long-fingered hand on the door handle. "What's your name?"
He half turned then and flashed me that charming lop-sided smile of his. "Call me Avalaired," he said.
"Avalaired," I repeated. "I am Llywelyn."
He nodded and left and I was left to myself once more. And so went my second meeting with my saviour, host and crush.
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Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 1:15 am
Now if you're really keen you can read the unedited version... mind cause it's unedited there are a number of problems with it but it hasn't got anything cut out or combined like the edited one has.
~*Volume 1: Coincidence*~
Outcast. Man-whore.
The seat was hard beneath me and my neck and shoulder muscles were becoming sore from my bowed head.
Freak. f*****t.
My sweaty clasped hands were beginning to irritate me but I dared not move them lest my prayers remain unanswered. It was Valentines day that day and most guys were spending the day with their girlfriends followed up by a romantic dinner just for the two of them.
Wanker. Queer.
These words seemed to be my only partner on a day like today. Crossing myself I stood and left the church, pulling my jacket tighter around my body against the chill air. It seemed so much colder than a normal winter day should be but I knew that was only my imagination. It was just the sight of the couples in the streets keeping each other warm. Valentines day seemed to bring them out in droves. Not that I really cared, I was well used to it now. Most people didn't even look at me as I walked past and that was okay. It was better than the glares I recieved from those who did know me.
Turning a corner and skirthing a puddle I chanced to look up and it was lucky I did. Skipping to the side I turned to the man I nearly knocked over. A tall man, slightly taller than myself, his hair pulled back in a pony-tail out of his eyes but it was nonetheless falling out. His hair appeared unnaturally darkened by the rain I had missed in the church. It was his eyes, however, which captivated me. They were almost cat-shaped and hazel in colour, but unlike any hazel I had ever seen before. The lamp light made them look like they were shining with an almost inner light.
Realizing I was staring I abruptly looked down again. "Sorry," I muttered as I continued along my weay. The stranger said nothing but merely nodded and kept walking. I kept casting looks back at him despite myself. Even the way he walked captivated me.
"Stop bing a fool," I muttered as I turned into my own street. "By chance you nearly walk into a hauntingly good looking man and you think you have a chance. Get a grip." Unlocking the door I let myself in. Lighting the lamps as I went inside, I climbed the stairs and entered my bedroom, flopping down on the bed without even taking my shoes off.
***
Gasping I turned another corner and kept running, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my pulse thudding loudly in my ears. My legs felt wobbly and as if they would give out under me but I knew what would become of me were that to happen. The fear of this put a new burst of speed into my sprint and I ran blindly through the streets and alley-ways, long since lost but past caring.
The sounds of my pursuers seemed to be getting closer but I was too afraid to look behind to confirm this. Every now and then I would hear them curse or tauntingly call out abuse. I, on the other hand, saved my breath.
Rounding another corner into a narrow alley I skidded to a horrified stop. It was a dead end; a high brick wall blocked this end of the alley from the other. "Oh no," I said quietly, turning to see four of my pursuers halt at the mouth of the alley. I seemed to have lost two but that was of little comfort considering the other four. "No, no, no, " I muttered as I took and involuntary step back.
The thugs advanced upon me and it felt as though my throat would close up with fear. Nonetheless I refused to go down without a fight. Bunching my fists I braced myself as they came at me.
I managed to get three good punches in before they downed me. After that there was no hope. The blows continued raining down, one of them even found a scrap of wood with a few nails in it.
The pain, especially when the nails pierced my flesh... no words could relate. Needless to say I was soon only semi-conscious and eventually they left me alone.
All I had wanted to do was go to church to pray as I did every day. I'm not naturally a very pious man but lately there seemed to be little else taht could offer me comfort. I was sitting in the same place I always did, just relaxing for the moment. One of the thugs, the one with the plank my mind fuzzily supplied, had entered the church alone, saw me and smirked, then left again. the accousted me as I tried to leave the chappel. I had escaped at first but they didn't like that and thus the chase ensued.
I dont know how long I lay in that grimey alley-way but it was full dark by the time I had enough wits to realize this. There also seemed to be some kind of nightclub or something in the same street; spurts of angry music could be heard whenever a door opened nearby. That was about all I got before I drifted into oblivion once more.
The next time I opened my eyes it was to see a figure bending over me. I couldn't make out any features as the light was behind this person but there was a gentle hand on my forehead and for some reason this made me feel safe and I closed my eyes once more. Oblivion didn't come as I expected, however. Instead, I couldn't hold back a groan as I felt myself lifted up and placed on a relatively soft seat. The rocking and jarring that I soon felt assured me that I was in a carrige... was the person I was with a noble? Why would someone of that kind of birth be interested in what probably appeared to be a drunken bum?
Not feeling as if I would be able to voice the questions I merely gritted my teeth against the jolting. The carrige ride seemed to last forever and I could feel every jolt almost as painfully as a second beating. The movement finally stopped and the carrige door was opened. I heard voices but I couldn't make out what they were saying; it was as if they were speaking a familiar but nonetheless incomprehensive language.
The next thing I knew I was bundled roughly out of the carrige. Some harsh words were spoken, I know not what, as I dont remember anything that happened afterwards. I think I must have lost consciousness again. When my wits finally returned I was lying in a large soft bed in a rich room. Turning my head to the side, I couldn't stop a groan from escaping my lips. A man was sitting at a desk near the bed and, hearing me stir, he turned. My eyes opened wider when I realized that it was the stranger from the other day who was now coming towards me. Forcefully I shut my eyes, thinking it must be a dream or perhaps I was hallucinating. But no. Opening my eyes once more I saw the stranger bend over me, placing a hand to my forehead with a concerned look on his face.
"You need not be afraid," he said, seemingly mistaking my surprised expression as one of fear. His voice was quiet but deeper than I would have expected. It suited him.
"Where am I?" I asked, my voice coming out as a horse croak.
The stranger didn't answer at first but instead moved out of my vission. Returning shortly later he slipped a hand under my head and raised it slightly. Placing a glass of water to my lips he tilted it slightly saying, "Drink," as he did so.
Swallowing at first was an effort but the water soon loosened my parched throat and then the needs of my body took over and I raised a hand to try and tip the glass further. "Easy," the stranger said, pushing my arm away and removing the glass. Pulling the chair from the desk and effortlessly dragging it to the bedside. "Now to answer your question, you are in my home where, I imagine, you will be for some time yet. I bathed you and tended your wounds. Surprisingly they aren't that bad. By far are the cuts and puctures, it looks as though they have become infected. But you should be fine if you don't push yourself." And with that he stood and left, closing the door behind him.
Meanwhile I burned in embarressment. He had bathed me? And it was strange that my injuries weren't more severe. As much as I found this luring stranger oddly attractive, I also felt uneasy, like there was some secret that was lurking just below the surface and if I probed too deeply I would regret it.
Thinking these fears were probably just due to a fever or something, I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep, pushing my fears to the back of my mind.
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Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 1:16 am
~*Volume 2: To Come Alive*~
I awoke in thesame room I have been in for the past week. The sun was shining in through a crack in the curtains and I turned my head away annoyed. I had barely seen my host since that first night; all my meals were brought to me by what I could only guess to be a butler of sorts. The man didn't speak to me or answer any questions I asked, no matter how trivial so I had given up, merely accepting the meal with a thanks to which he repliedwith a nod and left. Yesterday I had felt up to walking around but when I had tried to leave I found the door locked. I tried once more last night but it was in vain.
Sighing I rolled over on my side. I was bored and lonely and hadn't gone to church in a week. Needless to say I was pretty miserable. I was under house arrest by a stranger.
Throwing the covers back I sat on the edge of the bed in my nightshirt. I pulled it off and examined my body in a full-length mirror. Before me sat a man in his early twenties, scattered bruises over his relatively well-formed but by no means muscular body. There were only three pads straped to my body with light bandaging, two of which had been weeping during hte night and needed changing. The other wounds had healed up well, most scabbed over, a couple even the scab had even fallen away to reveal a slightly puckerd, fresh-looking pink scar.
I still couldn't get over the fact that my injuries hadn't been worse. That just didn't make sense. Shrugging, I washed myself in the basin water on my bedside table and dressed. The clothes I was wearing, simple brown breeches and a loose white shirt, I found sitting on top of the dark oak chest at the end of the bed the second time I awoke. I was just looking for where I had misplaced the hair-brush when a knock came at the door. Believing it merely to be the butler with fresh dressings and breakfast, I didn't pause in my search.
"Well it's good to see you up and about."
I spun around in surprise. There before me stood the stranger, my host, taking the job of the butler by bringing in the tray with a covered breakfast and a small satchel containing the dressings. Placing the tray on the desk he turned to face me with a smile. "What, no greeting? I'm sorry I haven't stopped in to see you while you were awake; I had other... matters to see to," he said.
I blushed faintly when he mentioned my silence, but he didn't give me a chance to appologize so I didn't. I did pick up on the pause before he said 'matters' but didn't question it. Instead I stood rather awkwedly off to the side. Before now I had thought of a dozen and one ways our next meeting would go and all the things I would say, ask and do. Now I could do none of them. This was the man who I had speant my time day dreaming the good and bad about. The first few days of the week I admit I fantasized about him but then as my 'stay' grew longer and I grew restless, I began to imagine all kinds of horrible things in my anger at him keeping me locked up in here. And now all I could do was stare. His brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail like the first time I saw him with a red hair wrap. His clothes were the same style as mine (I think the clothes I was wearing might actually have been his) but the shirt was the samered as the hair wrap.
His smile faltered a little but it stayed and he said, "Sit down and eat. I'll have a look and see how you are healing."
I couldthink of nothing to say to this so I merely obliged, sitting at the desk and, taking my shirt off, I hung it over the back of the chair and started eating hte scrambled eggs and sausages before me.
"Well you seem to be healing well," he commented as he removed the soiled dressings. He grunted then in distaste and said, "These will need to be cleaned."
"Thank-you," I finally said, finding my voice at last. "Not just for now but for when you first, you know, picked me up." My voice was quiet and I wasn't looking at him but he paused for a moment in his administrations.
Uncapping a bottle of some dark red liquid, he dabbed some onto a cloth, saying, "Truth to tell I don't know why I did. Bear with me a moment." He then dabbed the cloth on the closes infected cut. I gasped and winced before I could stop myself; it stung horribly. "I certainly wondered about it afterwards," he continued, picking up where he left off. He chuckled there and said, "It was an impulse I guess."
"Then you didn't recognise me fromt he other day?" I asked; I had in part hoped that had been why he had done so, though I had no idea why, it just somehow seemed important.
"Recognise you?" He asked in confusion.
Wam! I would have thought he would have recognised me at least by now, afterall, I had thought about him ever since that chance meeting. "I nearly ran into you that day it had been raining," I reminded him.
"Oh right," he said, binding clean dressings to my body. "No, I didn't, you were so banged up lying there in the dirt and grime I didn't give a thought as to who you were. Should I have?" His tone was almost accusingly so I shook my head, not really knowing what he meant. "Well anyway, I didn't recognise you till you were cleaned up. Just what happened anyway?"
There it was, the dreaded question. There was no way I could tell him the real reason, not yet anyway, what if he shared their sentiments on the matter? Istead I hedged around it, saying, "I got into a fight."
He scoffed at that. "Well I could see that, can still see it infact. I meant what started it? Fights don't just start for no reason.
'This one did,' I felt like saying, but didn't. I had to come up with something fast but that was conflicting with my unwillingness to lie to him. "My beliefs conflicted with theirs'," I said finally.
He sighed as he finished his ministrations and stood. "I hope you grow to trust me sometime," he said, his voice nochalant as if commenting on the weather, but I somehow felt as though I had made a mistake in lying. It was too late to go back now however.
He moved out of my vision for a moment and, after finishing my breakfast, I pulled my shirt over my ehad. I then felt a brush going through my hair and turned my head to see the stranger standing behind me with a brush.
"I was looking for that earlier," I said as he forcefully turned my head back to the front. "I can see to that," I muttered, though I didn't move to stop him. Truth to tell I rather enjoyed him brushing my hair and didn't want him to stop.
He seemed to sense my true feelings, however, as he merely chuckled but didn't stop. "I merely wish to get it to its former glory," he said.
I blushed a little at that. It was true, I had always taken great pride in making my hair nice and felt a warm spot in my chest ignight when he noticed.
"Done," he said after he finished plaiting it. I turned in my chair to face him then. "Now that you seem to be moving around I guess I can allow you to access the gardens. If you leave your room, turn right and follow the passage.At the end are some glass doors and through them are the gardens. Don't overdo it though; I don't want your fever coming back." With that he turned to leave.
"Wait," I said suddenly. He paused, his hand on the door handle. "What's your name?"
He half turned then and flashed me that charming lop-sided smile of his. "Call me Avalaired," he said.
"Avalaired," I repeated. "I am Llywelyn."
He nodded and left and I was left to myself once more. And so went my second meeting with my saviour, host and crush.
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Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 1:17 am
*~Volume 3: Garden of True Love*~
It was still an hour or two after I was given permission before I actually stepped outside to look at his gardens. Opening my door revealed an elaborate hallway, the floor was polished green marble and the roof was high, at least five meters high, and arched. Following the passage and quite a number of identical closed doors I came to the said glass doors and stopped in my tracks. The gardens, while they appeared to be on a roof-top, were beautiful, breath-taking infact. There were paths going this way and that, surrounded by trees and overhanging plants that I had no idea how they grew. Along the ground mushrooms, flowers, mosses and colourful fungi grew. I almost didn't want to open the doors, lest I find it just an illusion, a well done mural or something.
"You're just going to stand there staring?" came an amused voice from behind.
Spinning around I smiled when I saw Avalaried. "It just seems so magical," I said with the awe aparent in my voice. Turning my gaze back to the gardens, I continued, "It's as if it will all just prove to be an illusion or dream and if I open those doors it will all just disappear."
Avalaired merely chuckled, and walked forward, placing a long fingured hand on the polished golden door handle. "Well if that will happen when you open the door, I shall open it for you."
I blushed a little at the somewhat mocking tone he had but followed him through the open door. Following Avalaired along one of the many paths, we came to a wall and he guestured that I should look out. Stepping up beside him, I placed my hands on the waist-high wall and looked out. Once more it felt as though the very breath was stolen from my lungs. We wer high up, perhaps three or four stories high and the town I lived in was sprawled out before me. What on the ground and amongst the streets themselves was dirty and drab, from this height all looked marvelous.
Up so high there was a brisk breeze and, amlost involuntarily, my body gave a shiver; the shirt I was wearing, fine as it was, held little defence against the bitter wind.
Suddenly I felt warm, strong arms embrace me from behind and I stiffened at first, afraid, but then I relaxed. I was somewhat surprised by the move but, natrually, made no move to stop it.
But then I realized somthing and pulled away a little and turned to face Avalaired. "How did you know?" I asked, a little suspicion in my voice; I certainly hadn't made any reference as to my sexual preferences.
Avalaired merely smiled and turned me back around to embrace me again. Leaning forward, he whispered in my ear, "Know what? I was merely keeping you warm so you wouldn't become sick again."
I paled at that and started to pull away - had I just given myself away? Would he now despise me like all the others who found out? - but his embrace held me tight; he was surpisingly strong and I was unable to get away from him.
Chuckling at my efforts, he said, his deep voice soft, "It was obvious when I knew what to look for." I stopped struggling then and the strength that had hardened his arms seemed to leave and they were once more gentle and comforting around me. "I felt your gaze upon me after I passed you on that rainy day we met by chance. Then after you were brought here after being beaten up you continuously asked for me whenever you were awake. Then when I came to see you, you would turn red whenever your eyes drifted below my face, you didn't stop me from brushing and caring for your hair, and what's more yous eemed to delight in it. I think those things account for something, don't you?"
By the time he was finished I was scarlet and no longer needed to be held to be kept warm. Was I really that transperant? Maybe I deserved to be beaten up if that was the case, if I couldn't even hide it sufficiantly.
"Maybe you should go back to bed, you are heating up so much that I fear this may have been too much for you and your fever has returned," Avalaired said after my silence, and he began to pull me back from the wall.
"No," I said hastily, tightening my grip on the wall despite knowing the fact that if he wanted to he could easily pull me away. "I'm fine. I like it up here. It's... beautiful."
"Very well then," Avalaired said, a slight burr in his soft voice.
I don't know how long the two of us stayed there like that, but it was themost comfortable and most safe I had ever felt in years. Maybe it was all a dream; it certainly seemed too good to be true. Not only was I somewhere I believed I could be safe from persecution, but I was standing in a beautiful garden being embraced with seemingly equal affection by one I had loved since the first moment I clapped eyes upon him. Yes, it definately seemed too good to be true, but the feel of the red sleaved arms around me, the solid chest at my back, these felt too real to deny, as did the tiny pains from what remained of my wounds. It was like I was living a fairy-tale and I smiled at the thought.
"Come on," Avalaired eventually said. "You still need rest," and he pulled me gently from the wall and, with one arm across my shoulders, directed me a different way through the roof-top gardens and back inside. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was feeling weary.
"How did you get it to grow like that? On the roof-top I mean," I asked, remembering the question I meant to ask before.
Avalaired chuckled and said, "Don't you think knowing such a secret would take away from its beauty?"
"I guess so," I admitted.
Coming to my room, I merely removed my shirt before climbing into bed. I then remembered another question as Avalaired pulled the covers up and shut the curtains as if I were a child. "How did I have so few injuries? They should have been a lot worse, broken bones or something."
Coming closer, Avalaired leaned in close and whispered, "Magick," before leaving and closing the door quietly behind him.
Magick, huh? Well after all that had happened so far, magick didn't seem to be too hard to believe in.
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