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Date Posted: 23:55:33 02/17/02 Sun
Author: Tristan
Subject: Playing with fire again, are we?
In reply to: Saras 's message, "quiet words" on 22:08:20 02/15/02 Fri

Tristan was so astonished to hear Saras actually speak up and address him that he almost choked on his food. He swallowed quickly, washing the stuff down with a cup of hot, awful tasting java. (He hated java, but Corum had made them all a cup, and he didn’t want to be mean and refuse it.) Once he was positive he could breath normally again, he focused his attention on Jeremy’s little friend, narrowing his eyes at him while he talked.

The genie’s large, pretty eyes got all glisteny as he went on, stammering and tripping over his words as if he were too shy or nervous to speak clearly. Something was nagging at Tristan’s brain, asking him if that didn’t sound awfully familiar, but he shoved it angrily aside, his fists clenching angrily as he listened. Besides, he was pretty sure he never looked like that, with his lips quivering as though he were about to burst into tears and his body trembling like he was afraid to even open his mouth for fear of upsetting someone.

Nope, definitely don’t have that problem, he thought, smirking slightly.

Immediately, his smart aleck attitude dropped like a stone in his belly, his feelings replaced with sheer rage when he realized what Saras was suggesting. “…I don’t think it’s wrong for him to seek love,” the little creature continued, blinking innocently at him. “…even if it could only be for a little while.”

Tristan growled suddenly, very deeply, and very audibly, the noise sounding utterly inhuman as it rolled out of his throat. His narrowed eyes flashed red and he slammed the knife in his right hand into the table, burying the utensil up to the hilt so that the blade was actually sticking out the underside of the wood.

“What did you say?” he asked quietly, leaning forward so he could get a better look at the genie. “Tell me you didn’t just say what I think you said.” Everyone went quiet, perhaps from amazement, since he rarely got this mad—dragon mad, dragon fury, with fire coursing through his bloodstream and igniting his rage. It was as if he were a soft-spoken, elegant volcano, with no indication that he was about to erupt except for the red-hot color whirling in his eyes.

“You think,” he went on, his voice rising as he slowly stood up, pointing a finger at Jeremy, “that ugly little thing you can’t seem to pry your fingers off of actually has a right to steal something that rightfully belongs to me?”

He let the question hang in the air, not because he was trying to intimidate anybody, but because he was so furious he couldn’t go on for a second. “Well let me tell you something,” he finally continued. “You will wisely refrain from giving me your pointless, meaningless, worthless little opinions concerning your ugly friend and my Marz. No one tells me what to do, you…you little…whatever the hell you are! And as for you…”

Without warning, he stepped around Marz’s chair and grabbed Jeremy by the collar, shoving him up against the nearby wall so that his feet dangled an inch or so above the floor. “Dude, let me go!” the kid yelled, obviously pissed as hell as he struggled to free himself.

“Shut up,” Tristan snapped, jerking his captive roughly for emphasis. “You will learn to keep your dirty little hands to yourself, do you hear me?” Abruptly, he released Jeremy; instead, he grabbed his hands with both of his own, crushing his fingers painfully almost to the point of breaking. “Or else you’ll find you won’t be needing them anymore.”

That said, he shoved Jeremy away from him, making the kid stumble and swear at him as he managed to catch his balance.

“Now get out,” he growled, already starting to bare his teeth again as if he were on the hunt. “Get out, both of you, before I do something I’m sure we’d all regret.”

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