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Date Posted: 15:26:56 03/28/02 Thu
Author: Tristan
Subject: Back at the west tower

Tristan felt some of the tension leave his body when Tia and Corum joined him. Three against one were a lot better odds, especially against the twenty-foot tall demonic adversary he kept catching glimpses of in his head. The three of them had only a chance to exchange a glance with one another before the creature itself stalked into view, its glaring, angry red gaze focusing on them as its lips curled back to reveal sharp, pointed yellow teeth.

Corum was the first to spring forward, but Tristan and Tia weren’t far behind. After Corum and Yorik were swept away and sent hurtling against the wall by one of the demon’s massive, clawed hands, both dragon and thief moved in to take over. Tia positioned herself in front of the beast, worrying it with her daggers, while Tristan slipped behind it, slicing at its legs with his sword in an attempt to hamstring it at least, since that was really the only part of the giant creature he could reach!

Within seconds, they were joined by Marz and Benis, then Rowan and Jeremy. The elf did something, causing him to momentarily flicker out of view, but moments later he reappeared, the normally soft, silver runes tattooed onto his body flaring an ugly reddish gold. Tristan could tell from the hard look on his face that it hurt him, but he didn’t have time to see how he or the others were faring. He did see Marz dart forward and shove his sword into the demon’s belly, though he got his back raked across with the thing’s angry retaliatory swipe for his efforts.

Although it pissed him off beyond belief to see his lover injured, Tristan remained focused on the battle. He wasn’t in dragon form; he was human, and he retained all the cunning and strategy he’d learned from years of practice with his teacher. When Barry dumped the load of biting insects onto the demon’s head, he was the first to move forward, leaping up to bury his sword into the thing’s back, the dragon blood-tempered sword slicing through flesh as if it were butter. If that weren’t enough to paralyze it, his friends came forward also and attacked as one, daggers, swords, and one staff hammering into the creature until it collapsed on its knees, then fell face forward with a mighty boom!, its glaring red eyes wide open and staring at nothing forever.

Tristan moved back, breathing deeply but steadily as he pulled a kerchief from his pocket and wiped his sword clean of blood. After he slid the blade into its scabbard, he checked himself for serious injuries and was glad to find none. Of course, the battle did serve to upset his old ones, stretching and pulling at the already strained muscles in his leg and shoulder. He was sore and drained, and not just from the fight with the demon, either.

He reached up and touched the bruise he felt forming over his right eye, where Marz had slammed him into the stone wall of the chapel earlier. It had jarred his shoulder slightly, too, but that didn’t hurt much, not really. He also hurt—he swallowed and realized he was starting to shake again—He hurt in…other places, places he wasn’t used to feeling pain in after he and Marz made love together. But then, he couldn’t really call what they’d done in the chapel making love. Or rather, what Marz had done to him.

Oh, grow up! he ordered himself, scowling slightly. None of them were responsible for their actions in the chapel, except, of course, maybe Rowan, who’d dared Tristan to drink from that stupid fountain in the first place. He glared at the elf, who was standing there talking to Tia, though his eyes flitted toward Jeremy every now and then. Tristan watched the otherworldly youth, too, especially since he was working on Marz now, since Tia’s leg had been cleaned and bandaged as best as it could for now.

Tristan found himself walking slowly toward them, even though he suddenly realized he didn’t really want to. He smiled almost uncertainly at Marz, shaking his head when Jeremy turned and asked if he were injured, too. His eyes turned to meet Marz’s then, and he felt his pulse start hammering for some reason, though it wasn’t anything like the usual heart-pounding whirl of emotions he was used to getting when he stared at his lover for too long.

He broke the gaze when he heard Rowan call out after a while that he’d discovered another passage, leading up this time. “Come on,” Tristan said, doing his best to sound nonchalant as they headed off to join the others. He refrained from touching Marz, though he couldn’t explain why. Fortunately, Marz looked a bit uneasy too, and anyway, they were both used to Tristan’s standoffish nature. They could just pretend he hadn’t been slowly changing for the better lately, growing to like the feel of his lover’s hand in his or his arm draped comfortingly about his shoulders or his waist.

They walked for a long while, their way lit only by the blazing tortures which had flickered into being the moment they’d entered the demon’s lair. They moved steadily upward, though, and soon enough Tristan could smell the languid scent of the desert at night up ahead. Several more feet took them to the end of the tunnel, where an open gate led into a small cemetery. Rowan made a snide comment about their taking the hard way in the first time, but Tristan had a feeling that not only had this gate been locked while the monster lived, but that the path they had just come up had likely been riddled with traps and spells. Now that the demon was dead, however, it seemed as if all the foul life had been breathed out of the dark magic in the place.

They made their way back to the west tower without any further mishaps. A few were concerned about the other group not having made it back yet, but everybody seemed content to give them a few more hours before serious worrying could begin. They headed for the kitchen to get a bite to eat, Tristan still not saying a single word to anyone, his thoughts blank and haunted by something he couldn’t quite explain right now. He sat down with the others at the little table, accepting the warm cup of java that Laurel and the other Jann were passing out to the returning adventurers.

Tristan sat motionless for a minute or two, staring down at his java while he mentally commanded himself to calm down and start thinking clearly again. After a bit, he thought he was okay again, even though his hand trembled ever so slightly as he lifted the mug to his lips. At that moment, his eyes flickered up, and he met the dark eyes of Marz, who was staring at him from across the table—for Tristan had unconsciously sat between two other people upon entering the kitchen. His hand shook more violently, and before he knew it, he’d dropped the mug, spilling hot java all over the table, floor, and even in his own lap.

“I’m sorry!” he said, leaping out of his chair and grabbing for a few rags to clean the mess up. Laurel and Tia moved to help him, though nobody seemed to think it was any big deal. He cursed slowly and softly to himself as he dabbed at his pants while they wiped at the floor and table. Again, his eyes drifted up inexorably to meet Marz’s, and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled, not even thinking twice about his unusually polite manner. He hurried out of the kitchen and made his way into the closest room, by coincidence, the same room he and Marz had shut Corum up in the closet earlier. Quietly, he closed the door behind him and moved to the basin of water by the bed. He rummaged around in the drawer of the nightstand until he found a small, cracked mirror. Holding it up so he could focus on the ugly swollen scrape over his eye, he dabbed a cloth in the water and pushed it against the bruise, trying to wipe off the tiny spots of blood that had arisen without hurting it too much.

He sighed at himself in the mirror, staring into his own dark eyes and wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Marz would never do that in his right mind, he argued with himself. You have to let him touch you again, or else you’ll just be acting like an idiot, plain and simple.

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