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middaeg2020-10-11 02:59 pm
hearthebell) wrote in middaeg2020-10-11 02:59 pm
Entry tags:
Don't Let the Dead Bite [Closed]
Who: L, Myr, Niles, and Henry
When: Backdated slightly to September 26
Where: The Outpost
What: Necromancy and finger reattachment
Warnings: Little bit of blood? Maybe some profanity.
[At first, it had sounded too good to believe. So much that L had initially dismissed it as a cruel and insulting lie fed to him through one too trusting and optimistic to see it for what it was. As evidence had mounted that it was, in fact, believable, L's scoffing derision had given way to disturbed silence, heavy with uneasy speculation.
You're telling me, seriously, that he gave them to a necromancer who has had them this whole time?
It would be a lie to say that he's not disgusted by the notion, more than he would be if animals had gnawed them down to sun-bleached bone. It would be an equal lie to claim that he doesn't want them back, and as elegantly as Hiccup's prosthetics have served him, he simply can't refuse the peace offering. It's conditional on Myr being there, of course, because he's not foolish enough to meet with Niles or his associate alone, even after the establishment of some kind of truce. There's also a chance that it's been too long and even his native flesh won't rejoin what's mended and scarred and callused over the months they've been separated. He anticipates pain, while being reluctant to kill it with something that would also dull his mind when he feels he needs all his wits about him.
Hope is no indicator of trust, after all, and every shred of trust he possesses rests with his Bonded. Their appearance at the Outpost is sudden, teleported to the agreed-upon location, and L is tense, prepared for an ambush, wondering if it was foolish to come even with a companion. The air around him carries a charge and the faint scent of ozone along with it, a hint that he will tear the nearest molecules with lightning if anyone present intends to make a fool of him.]
When: Backdated slightly to September 26
Where: The Outpost
What: Necromancy and finger reattachment
Warnings: Little bit of blood? Maybe some profanity.
[At first, it had sounded too good to believe. So much that L had initially dismissed it as a cruel and insulting lie fed to him through one too trusting and optimistic to see it for what it was. As evidence had mounted that it was, in fact, believable, L's scoffing derision had given way to disturbed silence, heavy with uneasy speculation.
You're telling me, seriously, that he gave them to a necromancer who has had them this whole time?
It would be a lie to say that he's not disgusted by the notion, more than he would be if animals had gnawed them down to sun-bleached bone. It would be an equal lie to claim that he doesn't want them back, and as elegantly as Hiccup's prosthetics have served him, he simply can't refuse the peace offering. It's conditional on Myr being there, of course, because he's not foolish enough to meet with Niles or his associate alone, even after the establishment of some kind of truce. There's also a chance that it's been too long and even his native flesh won't rejoin what's mended and scarred and callused over the months they've been separated. He anticipates pain, while being reluctant to kill it with something that would also dull his mind when he feels he needs all his wits about him.
Hope is no indicator of trust, after all, and every shred of trust he possesses rests with his Bonded. Their appearance at the Outpost is sudden, teleported to the agreed-upon location, and L is tense, prepared for an ambush, wondering if it was foolish to come even with a companion. The air around him carries a charge and the faint scent of ozone along with it, a hint that he will tear the nearest molecules with lightning if anyone present intends to make a fool of him.]