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Date Posted: 13:35:20 02/08/02 Fri
Author: Tristan
Subject: And failing miserably
In reply to: Marz and Ravin 's message, "Tryiing to cope with things" on 10:17:27 02/08/02 Fri

Tristan sighed very audibly. It was difficult to gauge Marz’s reaction to his attempts at consolation. He didn’t say anything at first, though his face showed just how deeply troubled he was at the moment. Tristan shifted his feet anxiously. To hell with words and speeches and half-assed explanations! He wanted to fold his arms around him and hug him fiercely to him, whisper into his ear to stop thinking about it, that he was wonderful, beautiful, perfect even, and not a monster or ever a danger to anyone because of his wild magic.

But he hesitated too long, poised with concern and uncertainty. And then Marz took a step back from him, his expression turning almost frightened. Or maybe it was just guilt, an intensely biting guilt, for Tristan had rarely seen him wearing a guilty look on his face before, and didn’t know how to judge it for what it was.

Tristan frowned when he finally opened his mouth to speak. He didn’t sound too happy, now that he knew the truth. How could he say that knowing didn’t do him any good? The only way to perfect yourself, Adonis always told him, was to learn to listen to your heart at all times, to rely on what it’s telling you when you aren’t certain about what to do. Odarin had snorted when he heard that, countering that only knowledge brought true power, for if you truly knew yourself you would never feel the need to be uncertain.

They were two conflicting ways of thought that were actually bound more closely together than he would have imagined, though Tristan had yet to figure that out for himself. He knew that knowing things made you stronger; ignorance didn’t keep you “happy”—it kept you stupid. It was extremely hard to grasp Marz’s statement about not being any better off now. Of course simply knowing about his abilities wouldn’t fix anything, but at least now he could attempt to do something about it, now that he was actually aware of them.

He sighed again, walking alongside him back toward camp. He felt as though he'd missed something back there, let it slip through his fingers like gossamer drifting in the wind over his head. Marz had needed comforting, but then he’d moved away for some reason, and Tristan hadn’t pursued him the way he should have. Should’ve grabbed him anyway and held him until that horrible look faded from his face, to let him know it was okay to feel bad about what had happened, but that someone still loved him anyway. Only he hadn’t done that, and the moment was gone now. Nothing he could do about it, really.

He was glad they were going to get Erlic and begin on the chakras again, even despite Marz’s first experience in delving with them. But they had to put the thought on hold, as Erlic immediately stepped forward and began to address the group as a whole, attempting to relate some very disturbing news.

Tristan sucked in a breath when he heard about Dalo being taken and beaten back in Bizmar. His friendship with the man was almost assuredly soured now; nevertheless, an immense wave of relief washed over him when Erlic hurried to assure them he and this other guy named Jake were okay now. All right, so they weren’t exactly friends anymore; that still didn’t mean Tristan had any wish to see harm come to the crazy beastmaster!

Then everything went dark again, brushing aside his earlier relief as if it had never existed. Eremis? Those seedy crime-loving bastards had captured Eremis, and this time there had been no one to come to the rescue? Why not? They had ventured to save Dalo’s worthless ass from the same people, but nobody thought it worth the effort to even search for Eremis! Tristan growled under his breath and clutched Marz’s hand instinctively, the physical contact grounding him momentarily. He wanted to rush up to Erlic and shake him until his head snapped off, to scream and yell at him to contact his friends in Bizmar and tell them to get their asses on the ball so they could find Eremis.

At present, he was glad to be angry, otherwise his true feelings would rise up and take him over, and there’d be nothing he could do about it. He barely listened to Erlic’s closing words, wanting to laugh at the man’s suggestion that this was nobody’s fight but Marz’s, Ravin’s, and his own. But instead, he only gripped the hand in his tighter, imagining in detail what he’d do to the first thug who tried to get through him to his Marz.

Ravin shook him from his vengeful thoughts when he stood up and addressed Erlic head on. Tristan didn’t know who the Rovers were, but judging from the look on Ravin’s face, they were pretty damned important to him. Tristan looked at him with askance when he said he’d had a vision; he hadn’t known he was a seer, but supposed it wasn’t all that unusual a gift to have.

The doubt fled from his mind, however, once Ravin began relating his vision. This Jake person he didn’t care about, nor did the supposed attack on these Rover people affect him much. But the image of presumably one of Tegol’s man attempting to molest or even rape Eremis hit him full force, draining the blood from his face as if he’d actually had the vision himself.

“I hope somebody checks on Jake.” Marz’s voice cut into his momentary stupor, and Tristan turned to stare at him, doing his best to get his emotional reaction under control. He was pretty sure Marz didn’t really care for Eremis, especially since he always used to act like a jealous maniac when he and Tristan were together. He might even get angry again, if Tristan showed how upset he was over the news of his capture and treatment.

“Don’t worry, Tris,” Marz continued, looking calm enough to fool Tristan into believing he really didn’t care. “He’ll be all right.”

Liar! Tristan thought furiously. He didn’t know where the thought had come from, but it brought his blood back to its boiling point once again. Suddenly, he couldn’t hold back anymore, not his anger nor his distress.

“Don’t lie to me!” he snapped, wrenching his hand away. He stood up and stalked away as fast as he could, ashamed of his childlike reaction. So what if Marz didn’t care about Eremis? Tristan doubted he’d be all bent out of shape if they learned Jeremy were in a similar situation. That was no reason to bite his head off like that, was it?

“I don’t care,” he told himself, finally coming to a stop, now a good distance away from camp. He leaned against a tree and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing somewhat as he stared at the lake. They should have never let Eremis go back to Bizmar. He didn’t belong in that lousy crime-ridden dump of a city. He was too good, too kind, and he needed their protection. Tristan bet he hadn’t even put up a fight when the bastards came and got him, the little fool. Hell, they’d even promised to show him how to protect himself, but had always been too busy to do it.

Too busy with Marz, he thought wearily. Suddenly, he felt absolutely crestfallen. Marz had become his every waking moment, now—no, more than that. When he closed his eyes, Marz was beside him, and when he opened them, if he were gone by then, he was never far away, his delicious presence still hanging in the air. Tristan wanted him like crazy, all the time, and he knew Marz fretted about not touching him as much as he wanted. They always got their signals crossed, for stupid reason.

Now he was pissed off at him again for not caring about Eremis, and maybe not letting him comfort him the way he wanted earlier. Oh hell, he was just pissed off in general. He wanted to help Eremis, to fly to Bizmar and rip him out of that Tegol bastard’s clutches. But who was he fooling? Eremis probably hadn’t thought of him since the day they’d last seen each other. In fact, he’d been practically creeped out just knowing that Tristan had once had a crush on him. He’d rather that Kisa woman he loved to rescue him, if anybody. The idiot was suicidal, too, or at least he had been at one point. Maybe he liked where he was, knowing that he might die any second.

Strangely deflated, Tristan leaned his head against the tree and closed his eyes, hating himself. Just when he would need Marz’s reassurances most, he’d gone and yelled at him and alienated him, just the way he always did. He swore to all the gods, sometimes he didn’t think he deserved to be in a relationship. He treated what they had like shit, or at least that’s what it seemed to him. Now here he was once again, wallowing in his own sorrows, not even caring about what the others were thinking, how they were reacting to it. It disgusted him, but it was just the way he was. The way he’d always been.

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