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lantairvleaRunning total: 9,777
Of course, as I attempt to aim my efforts at the gaps in Fire Forged Key, I find myself plunking down nearly a thousand words in Depths of the Forge because I can't write in a straight line to save my life.
It's a good thing writing is so malleable.
"And what part did you play M. Dobenhyuns?" Hafitch Montenbohn scanned another line in the file on what was Alekandler Triden's desk before looking up at Punntel. Her cold blue eyes piercing and full of judgement.
"Regrettably, madam," Punntel began, "I was part of the group that brought Kallon Hillenbohn here. Once he was here, I handled much of the medical care that occured. Everything from burns to lacerations. Triden was also overly fond of chemical restraints."
He inhaled slowly and continued under her critical gaze, the occasional scrape of pen against paper the only other sound outside of his own voice. "I quickly realized it was a mistake, but I didn't know how to get out of it. Triden was obsessive about keeping a tight lid on the situation and more prone to violence the longer it went on. I couldn't ask for a transfer. Even if I could have, I didn't trust the others' ability to keep M. Hillenbohn alive. They may have killed him just with the sedatives. He doesn't quite respond like a human would, and the dosage isn't the same."
Her brows raised in a skeptical look. "You gained a conscience?"
"I guess you could say that. Or I finally realized what a mad idea it was. I had to do something. Over the Behlsltice break I went home to visit family. They live in Geten's territory. I wrote a letter to Engama."
"That was you?" She sat up with a tilt of her head before looking down at her papers again. She scratched a note with quick, efficient strokes. "Well, M. Dobenhyuns, I assume I will have your full cooperation during this investigation?"
"Yes, Hafitch Montenbohn, whatever you need, madam."
"Good. Now, for verification, could you tell me what you wrote in your letter?"
"Of course, madam. It was 'He's at Domman.'" More pen scratches. "A smart man like Hafitch Danrick Mishor wouldn't need more than that. More than that, and I feared it could get back to Triden, and he would trace it back to me."
"You feared for your life, M. Dobenhyuns?"
"I did, madam."
---
Sray ran her fingers through Kallon's hair, shaking loose the cut ends and checking for any spots she may have missed. It was pretty easy with his markings showing. He had just wanted the dyed portion removed. Even slightly faded, it was easy to spot against the white on either side of the dorsal stripe. What was left was much longer than he used to wear it. It hung over his ears, and if it wasn't brushed aside, covered most of his forehead, but that was what he wanted.
"That does it," she pulled off the cover and set down the shears next to the sink. She watched him frown at his own reflexion. "I can get the supplies to dye it, if you want."
He stood and studied himself in the mirror, inspecting the results. He didn't recognize the haunted, weak-looking young man that stared back at him. Sray had assured him he looked better than he did when she found him. He felt better, but it was still disappointing. He looked again at the thin arms and sunken cheeks, the sharp angle of his shoulders and the hollow of his chest where muscle used to be. He scrutinized the freshly cut hair, no longer hanging in his eyes. The thick, black dorsal cutting a stark line through the white hair on either side. He could barely remember when it last looked like that.
He stared at his reflexion along time, slowly rolling the thoughts around in his mind. He had kept it short and dyed like their father for years. He did it because Teigan did it. Teigan did it to blend in as best as a full klamon could among humans. Not that Teigan was ever really among humans, isolated on the farm save for once.
The Kallon who tried to blend in was gone. The thought of keeping up the lie that he was just human chafed. He ran his hand back and forth through his hair, a few loose ends flying off. He rubbed the back of his neck and folded his arms across his chest. "No," his lip curled slightly. "Leave it. There's no reason to."
"If that's how you want it," she shook the cover free of the loose hair and folded it up before grabbing the broom.
Of course, as I attempt to aim my efforts at the gaps in Fire Forged Key, I find myself plunking down nearly a thousand words in Depths of the Forge because I can't write in a straight line to save my life.
It's a good thing writing is so malleable.
"And what part did you play M. Dobenhyuns?" Hafitch Montenbohn scanned another line in the file on what was Alekandler Triden's desk before looking up at Punntel. Her cold blue eyes piercing and full of judgement.
"Regrettably, madam," Punntel began, "I was part of the group that brought Kallon Hillenbohn here. Once he was here, I handled much of the medical care that occured. Everything from burns to lacerations. Triden was also overly fond of chemical restraints."
He inhaled slowly and continued under her critical gaze, the occasional scrape of pen against paper the only other sound outside of his own voice. "I quickly realized it was a mistake, but I didn't know how to get out of it. Triden was obsessive about keeping a tight lid on the situation and more prone to violence the longer it went on. I couldn't ask for a transfer. Even if I could have, I didn't trust the others' ability to keep M. Hillenbohn alive. They may have killed him just with the sedatives. He doesn't quite respond like a human would, and the dosage isn't the same."
Her brows raised in a skeptical look. "You gained a conscience?"
"I guess you could say that. Or I finally realized what a mad idea it was. I had to do something. Over the Behlsltice break I went home to visit family. They live in Geten's territory. I wrote a letter to Engama."
"That was you?" She sat up with a tilt of her head before looking down at her papers again. She scratched a note with quick, efficient strokes. "Well, M. Dobenhyuns, I assume I will have your full cooperation during this investigation?"
"Yes, Hafitch Montenbohn, whatever you need, madam."
"Good. Now, for verification, could you tell me what you wrote in your letter?"
"Of course, madam. It was 'He's at Domman.'" More pen scratches. "A smart man like Hafitch Danrick Mishor wouldn't need more than that. More than that, and I feared it could get back to Triden, and he would trace it back to me."
"You feared for your life, M. Dobenhyuns?"
"I did, madam."
---
Sray ran her fingers through Kallon's hair, shaking loose the cut ends and checking for any spots she may have missed. It was pretty easy with his markings showing. He had just wanted the dyed portion removed. Even slightly faded, it was easy to spot against the white on either side of the dorsal stripe. What was left was much longer than he used to wear it. It hung over his ears, and if it wasn't brushed aside, covered most of his forehead, but that was what he wanted.
"That does it," she pulled off the cover and set down the shears next to the sink. She watched him frown at his own reflexion. "I can get the supplies to dye it, if you want."
He stood and studied himself in the mirror, inspecting the results. He didn't recognize the haunted, weak-looking young man that stared back at him. Sray had assured him he looked better than he did when she found him. He felt better, but it was still disappointing. He looked again at the thin arms and sunken cheeks, the sharp angle of his shoulders and the hollow of his chest where muscle used to be. He scrutinized the freshly cut hair, no longer hanging in his eyes. The thick, black dorsal cutting a stark line through the white hair on either side. He could barely remember when it last looked like that.
He stared at his reflexion along time, slowly rolling the thoughts around in his mind. He had kept it short and dyed like their father for years. He did it because Teigan did it. Teigan did it to blend in as best as a full klamon could among humans. Not that Teigan was ever really among humans, isolated on the farm save for once.
The Kallon who tried to blend in was gone. The thought of keeping up the lie that he was just human chafed. He ran his hand back and forth through his hair, a few loose ends flying off. He rubbed the back of his neck and folded his arms across his chest. "No," his lip curled slightly. "Leave it. There's no reason to."
"If that's how you want it," she shook the cover free of the loose hair and folded it up before grabbing the broom.
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Date: 2024-11-19 07:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-11-21 04:15 am (UTC)