Post by Pocket on Apr 11, 2013 23:52:19 GMT -5
(Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey.
Set; 3 days before Riklith's clutch hatches.)
If someone were to ask Jayli if he were alright, he would smile, nod, and agree that, Yes, perfectly fine.
That, of course, would gain him marks for a harper's tale, for he was anything but.
It had been weeks since... since the acci-- since it had happens. When he'd gotten caught up in Riklith's torrential flightlust, and the only person he'd been able to ride it out with had been J'shom. While it hadn't gone as far as things had happened before (he still had mixed feelings on this, oddly), it hadn't stopped him from freaking out as soon as he'd come back to himself.
All of the politest excuses couldn't disguise the simple fact; he had ran away like a coward.
Where had that left him? Several weeks without one of his important people in his life, and it hurt. It hurt to duck and dodge after training, to avoid one of his best friends. Were it any other person, this wouldn't have hurt so much. But this was J'shom, the man he'd known since he found him at Smithcraft and brought him to Igen. Any stranger that flightlust had brought to his bed he could deflect; it still hurt, but it was managable. But with the brown rider, things were different.
In the beginning, he'd fled to avoid that post-lust hurt that always came. Now? Now he couldn't bear if J'shom became one of those numerous voices, with hurtful labels he pretended to ignore. Jay isn't sure if he could handle J calling him 'Flighty'.
So, he took the coward's way out; he dodged out of lingering behind at wing training, ate most of his meals (when he could eat them) in his room. It hurt, so badly, but he isn't sure he's strong enough to face his best friend once more. Not for a real goodbye.
With a shake of his head, Jayli tied his hair back up into a ponytail, a sloppy one that had hair falling into his face and to the back of his neck but found he didn't care too much for the annoyances. Dressed in a tank top and a knee-length skirt, comfort work clothes for him, Jayli set his mind to work. He polished the bracers once more, until the sewn metal gleamed in the glowlight. It was something to do, even if he never got to give them to their intended recipient.
Set; 3 days before Riklith's clutch hatches.)
If someone were to ask Jayli if he were alright, he would smile, nod, and agree that, Yes, perfectly fine.
That, of course, would gain him marks for a harper's tale, for he was anything but.
It had been weeks since... since the acci-- since it had happens. When he'd gotten caught up in Riklith's torrential flightlust, and the only person he'd been able to ride it out with had been J'shom. While it hadn't gone as far as things had happened before (he still had mixed feelings on this, oddly), it hadn't stopped him from freaking out as soon as he'd come back to himself.
All of the politest excuses couldn't disguise the simple fact; he had ran away like a coward.
Where had that left him? Several weeks without one of his important people in his life, and it hurt. It hurt to duck and dodge after training, to avoid one of his best friends. Were it any other person, this wouldn't have hurt so much. But this was J'shom, the man he'd known since he found him at Smithcraft and brought him to Igen. Any stranger that flightlust had brought to his bed he could deflect; it still hurt, but it was managable. But with the brown rider, things were different.
In the beginning, he'd fled to avoid that post-lust hurt that always came. Now? Now he couldn't bear if J'shom became one of those numerous voices, with hurtful labels he pretended to ignore. Jay isn't sure if he could handle J calling him 'Flighty'.
So, he took the coward's way out; he dodged out of lingering behind at wing training, ate most of his meals (when he could eat them) in his room. It hurt, so badly, but he isn't sure he's strong enough to face his best friend once more. Not for a real goodbye.
With a shake of his head, Jayli tied his hair back up into a ponytail, a sloppy one that had hair falling into his face and to the back of his neck but found he didn't care too much for the annoyances. Dressed in a tank top and a knee-length skirt, comfort work clothes for him, Jayli set his mind to work. He polished the bracers once more, until the sewn metal gleamed in the glowlight. It was something to do, even if he never got to give them to their intended recipient.
