Roominations (Zemaren)

[Requiem]

A moment of peace. Faolask was adored, of course, but when she was awake it was something like the equivalent of running a marathon. His system was frail enough as it was; his stomach hadn't been right since his Impression. Something about constantly having a flood of adrenaline running through him just didn't sit well with his insides.

Now, though, the green slept standing up. Right at the foot of his cot. He liked the nights when he could actually enjoy them like this. Not too many people. No dragons. Even his roommate was gone for now. Zemaren wasn't the overly friendly sort - thankfully - and Faolan found talking to him a touch daunting. Thus he simply didn't. At least they weren't getting on each other's nerves?

With an inward sigh of reluctance, Faolan acknowledged that they would be missed at lessons if he delayed too much longer. That or he'd go to them on an empty stomach. Neither option seemed particularly good. So the greenhandler sat up, going over to his trunk, to the chest that contained his clothing and the salve Aliscia had given him turns ago - salve that had seen no use since returning to Selenitas.

And likely wouldn't, either, as it required someone else to apply it and Faolan could not let anyone see the horrific twistings of rope-like welts on his back. Part of it was prudence. Too many questions. But the other part was pure conditioning; it was his shame. The truth of how terrible he'd been when first he'd been shown his place amongst the dragonless. Willful, defiant...and, later, simply unskillful at the tasks set before him. Slaves with such evidence on their bodies were worth little.

Nevermind that he wasn't anyone's slave any longer. He still felt ashamed to have the scarring seen. A quick, needless glance around the room again, just to be sure that no hidden person lingered in the corners somewhere...and he pulled off the shirt he'd slept in, hastening to replace it with another from his chest.

[Tashe]

Zemask stretched his little wings as he trotted through the appartments. He was happy and full, the big Brown couldn't be more content! Well he could... but he wasn't sure of what would make that so. Swishing his tail he looked back at hislove and barked. His shouldn't look so unhappy. They were together after all!

Zemaren trudged after his Wherling with a slight scowel set upon his face, it hadn't been a terribly good evening. While he was playing in the Main Hall three of his violin strings broke. Just, snapped. There hadn't been any warning and he had been eighty percent positive that he had only recently restrung Vivia. Needless to say, he was forced to cut practice early because of his lack of replacement strings. But that wasn't the end of his bad luck. On the way back to the appartments the Harper managed to trip and dump the sheet music to one of his Songs in progress and a stick of resin into the river. He tried to save them before the current took them away but failed. It was fortunate he remembered what he had already composed and had more strings and resin, otherwise he would have gone off somewhere and thrown a fit. Or punched someone. Either were viable options.

Scooting Zemask away from the door with his foot, the Wherling unlatched the door to his temporary home and swung it open. Not expecting Faolan to be there Zemaren let his Brown bound into the room and jump onto his bed, rather than have him walk quietly. The Wherling respected Faolask's particularities despite finding the Green rather annoying, so he did his best not to stress the little female out. Movement drew his eyes to the room's other occupant. "Oh..." The scars on Faolan's back were the first things the younger man had seen before the other had slipped the rest of his shirt on. He wasn't disgusted by them and he wasn't terribly curious about how the man got them, but it would be lying if he said there wasn't any interest in them. Having lived so close to Fort Hold, he had a few ideas that trudged around his mind. "Sorry. Didn't think you'd be here." Closing the door with his foot, Zemaren juggled his stuff around in his arms as he walked over to his bed. Meanwhile Zemask had wondered over to Faolask, to make sure he hadn't scared her.

[Requiem]

Zemask's sudden entrance had much the expected effect on his clutchsister; she jolted awake and bolted immediately for the door, her own response reflected in her handler, who was suitably startled himself without her added fear. He jumped, his arms not quite fully in his sleeves yet, tripping and half-falling on the bed before slipping to the ground with a thunk. At least he'd landed on his seat.

For Faolask's part, the green abruptly changed course when she saw Zemaren was in the doorway, her body striking a glancing blow to his ankles as her claws dug into the ground and she turned tightly. Ending up right back in her corner, trembling. Faolan was up by that point, awkwardly adjusting his shirt while going over to wrap his arms around the green in a soothing gesture. He eyed Zemaren for a moment, his pale blue eyes inscrutable.

"Where else?" The words were quietly spoken, but they retained a hint of annoyance. It wasn't so easy to forgive the roommate who lived with him for being insensitive to Faolask within the confines of this room. That and his heartrate was still galloping. Only now did it occur to him that Zemaren had likely seen. A slow flush covered his cheeks and he pressed his lips together. Not going to plead with the brownwherling to keep it quiet. He may not have seen or understood, after all.

Faolan finally calmed Faolask enough that he felt comfortable leaving her, crossing back to his bed to tug on his boots. "We'll be out of your way in a moment." No irritation this time. Merely weariness. He wasn't so much tired as tired at the thought of another long night being spooked by everything and trying to keep Faolask calm through it all.

[Tashe]

Gently and quietly Zemask trundled over to Faolask, chirping at her so she knew he was coming, if she hadn't already seen him of course. He was most sorry for scaring her like that, he hadn't meant to. The Brown rumbled happily. He'd just been so excited. He and His had just got back from being around many people. Many of those humans wanted to pet him. He liked the attention. Especially from the female ones. He liked Faolask the best of course, she was his friend! Zemask nosed her gently. He was sorry.

Dumping his stuff onto his bed the Harper sat down heavily in an open space, removing his boots so that he could rub his smarting ankles. "I don't know... somewhere. Like on a walk, trying to strengthen her ability to see in the dusk or whatever." For such a small thing, Faolask was strong or at least very heavy. When most of the pain was gone the Wherling sighed remembering that he still had to re string Vivia. But first he pulled a stack of parchment and a writing utensil over to him, quickly jotting down the portions of his song he lost to the river. "You aren't in the way." The skrit-scratching of his writing didn't cease as he responded, keeping up a steady rhythm as the notes flowed from his mind to his hand.

Halfway through the second page he paused, hand and tool hovering momentarily over his work. He resumed a few moments later, trying to look busy as he spoke up. "You good though?" He of course was referring to the other man's scars. Zemaren's words were broken into spaces as he divided his attention between two subjects, one in his opinion slightly more important than the other, but still demanded equal concentration.

[Requiem]

Now, Faolask genuinely liked Zemask. He'd just startled her, was all. So naturally she didn't hold it against him. Accepting the half-nuzzle, she leaned against him and nuzzled his neck. It was okay, brotherhers! And a very brave brother he was, too. So many people made her nervous. Or did they make Hers nervous? Sometimes Faolask couldn't quite tell which, but that was not important. What was important was he was brave and nice and she forgave him. So she told him in a flood of images.

Faolan faltered slightly as he began to tie up his second boot. "Should we be doing that?" he questioned, half to himself. It was clear he hadn't thought about going out to strengthen that ability. Faolan liked the night, when most people were safely locked away in rooms where they couldn't bother him. Or Faolask. But he supposed that would be a good thing to work on, even if it didn't make him feel entirely comfortable.

The moment of indecision passed and he went back to tying his boot, only to pause again. The obligatory social response of Faolan's not being in the way went ignored; it would be spoken whether it was true or not. Good? The greenwherling regarded the bowed profile of Zemaren as the other wherling seemed to pour all his attention into his work. Seemed to. Maybe he was just talking about Faolan's fall...?

But he knew better. And he knew curious people would not let things go if they were truly curious. Faolan wasn't much of a fighter. "It doesn't hurt anymore, if that's what you mean. It...was awhile ago. Sometimes gets tight." Which answered the question asked. Faolan didn't feel like giving any more information than that unless asked directly. He hastened to finish tying his boot.