[ Eight days pass and not a word is spoke between them. It's ... quiet, the pipes and rattle of steps distant and hollow keeps him up at night. He's angry, upset, and lonely. Three combinations to a cocktail that turns the boy into a incendiary grenade ready to explode.
At first, working more didn't get his mind off the Duke. The lingering taste, the way his body felt pressed in his, and that betrayal of trust – ugh. Why is he so bothered by this? It's one of the first times... he's actively wanted something. Out of reach, unable to pull from his magic hat. Lynette's letters grow longer and he writes her with confessions at first. Throwing those out shortly after in favor of the same long-lasting want for her.
It's fine.
He's just... lonely, that's why this stings so much. Right?
So. Lyney has to find a way to channel his feelings. So be it, he does it in a way that turns the pretty boy into a target. Lyney somehow convinces someone to work with him. They both bet coupons against Lyney but still – he tries. He talks his way into the ring, gives it his all but it's not enough. Each punch looks like a wet noodle flopping poorly with so-so form. Lyney works best with props, with proficiency in weapons but he's too ambitious and his strikes don't hit nearly as hard as they should.
Speed can't keep his back from the ropes and his head from hitting the mat. It'll still pay for a handful of letters.
The first day wasn't noticeable, a bruise under his eye barely blossomed, but the second day sends him to Sigewinne.
No tight-fitting clothes for four days! Let your body breathe, you're too tiny to stop growing.
That's... not how human works but Lyney doesn't argue. He isn't exactly most comfortable chatting with Sigewinne, but he does as he mentioned: he leaves an autograph as thanks which the nurse hangs up promptly after she bandages his ribs up.
The boy dangles his shirt between his fingers, limp as he carefully starts the trek back to his room, bare chest exposed and white bandages weaved up over his shoulder. He looks tired but... it's fine. Another week down. Another week closer to leaving. ]
the deepest bruise is under the surface [PART NINE]
At first, working more didn't get his mind off the Duke. The lingering taste, the way his body felt pressed in his, and that betrayal of trust – ugh. Why is he so bothered by this? It's one of the first times... he's actively wanted something. Out of reach, unable to pull from his magic hat. Lynette's letters grow longer and he writes her with confessions at first. Throwing those out shortly after in favor of the same long-lasting want for her.
It's fine.
He's just... lonely, that's why this stings so much. Right?
So. Lyney has to find a way to channel his feelings. So be it, he does it in a way that turns the pretty boy into a target. Lyney somehow convinces someone to work with him. They both bet coupons against Lyney but still – he tries. He talks his way into the ring, gives it his all but it's not enough. Each punch looks like a wet noodle flopping poorly with so-so form. Lyney works best with props, with proficiency in weapons but he's too ambitious and his strikes don't hit nearly as hard as they should.
Speed can't keep his back from the ropes and his head from hitting the mat. It'll still pay for a handful of letters.
The first day wasn't noticeable, a bruise under his eye barely blossomed, but the second day sends him to Sigewinne.
No tight-fitting clothes for four days! Let your body breathe, you're too tiny to stop growing.
That's... not how human works but Lyney doesn't argue. He isn't exactly most comfortable chatting with Sigewinne, but he does as he mentioned: he leaves an autograph as thanks which the nurse hangs up promptly after she bandages his ribs up.
The boy dangles his shirt between his fingers, limp as he carefully starts the trek back to his room, bare chest exposed and white bandages weaved up over his shoulder. He looks tired but... it's fine. Another week down. Another week closer to leaving. ]