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Date Posted: 01:08:47 02/11/02 Mon
Author: Tristan
Subject: Just confused, I guess
In reply to: Marz 's message, "Trying to give a little comfort" on 18:19:36 02/09/02 Sat

Tristan stood silently by the lake, slouched against a tree with his eyes closed, mentally berating himself for acting so foolishly. But hearing about Eremis’ capture had hit him harder than he’d been capable of handling, apparently. Stupid thing to feel, he decided, since the cowardly healer probably didn’t give a shit about him in return. Let him cry to Tegol’s men, now. Those men wouldn’t have the decency to hold back their desires and settle for friendship, but what did he care?

He sighed and opened his eyes, frustrated by his sudden depression. He shouldn’t be so bent out of shape for some stupid pretty healer who’d once claimed to be his friend. Humans didn’t want dragons for friends, anyway, any more than dragons wanted pseudo-dragons for the same thing.

Stupid, he mocked, Pretending to hate yourself isn’t going to make you feel any better. No, that was true, and he knew it, even though he still did it. The only thing that ever made him feel better—the only thing that could ever make him forget all his troubles, at least for a little while—was being with Marz.

Which is why I’m such an asshole to him! He balled his fists up, prepared to whirl around and stalk off even farther away, this time to rage at himself for being so stupid. Instead, he was shocked when he felt a comforting hand encircle him, and he looked up to stare in slight amazement into the dark eyes of Marz. When he was pulled into an embrace, though, his shock immediately fell away, and he hugged him fiercely back, suddenly overwhelmed with the emotions he’d been trying to keep back.

He pushed his face into Marz’s shoulder, nodding slightly when it was promised that Tegol was going to die, no matter what. Tristan had no taste for prolonged torture, though; when he went after someone, he killed with the quick efficiency of a hunter, taking no pride in his work except that his quarry was now dead. He knew he’d try his best to do things the way Marz wanted them done, but it’d be hard holding back, nonetheless.

He felt like an idiot when Marz had assured him he didn’t hate Eremis. Of course he didn’t hate him. Hell, they’d even been acquainted with one another long before Tristan had ever entered the picture. He’d just tried to fit some reasoning behind the lie about Eremis being okay, so he’d cooked up the notion that his lover’s slightly jealous tendencies had blossomed into hatred and unconcern. I guess it never entered my half-witted head that he was just trying to spare my feelings.

“I’m sorry for being such a jerk,” he mumbled, his face still somewhat hidden. Apologies fell so easily off his tongue these days, but he was getting to where he didn’t really mind saying them. “It’s just that…I’ve never known what it feels like to worry about someone I care for.”

He tried to figure out if that made any sense at all, and realized it did. It wasn’t like he’d gotten close to a terribly great amount of people in his lifetime. No one, in his precariously naďve mind, could possibly hurt his father, and no one his teacher, either. Other dragons and mortals he refused to get too close to, until now. He realized suddenly that it was the inaction that was killing him so much.

“I just want to be able to do something about it,” he muttered. “If I could do something, I’d be angry again, and I’d stop feeling so shitty, I guess. Anger I can handle, especially if I have something to take it out on.”

I sound like an animal, he thought, almost ashamed of himself. The type of creature someone like Dalo would feel naturally attuned to. Something people thought they could tame, but could never be trusted not to bite the hand that fed it.

He brought his arms up and pressed his palms against Marz’s chest, digging his fingers into the material of his shirt. “But if it were you,” he added through gritted teeth, “If it were you they’d captured, I swear to all the gods I’d fly to Bizmar and destroy every one of them myself!”

So brave sounding, and yet here he was, clinging to him like a little child. But I’d do it, he swore silently. No one could stop me from doing it. And he knew, for once, that he was being perfectly honest with himself. Many people had experienced the mistake of getting on a dragon’s bad side. And if these mortals hadn’t, well, they sure as hell soon might. Nobody was going to hurt Marz Nightcrawler while he still breathed. No one.

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