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Post by Puck on Apr 11, 2011 23:03:56 GMT -5
"I've...never killed someone before, Clopin," Puck said, forcing his eyes to remain open with little success. "I'm afraid I hurt, or kill someone else. And not just some random person on the street, someone I know. Someone like Taylor, or Moppet, or...or even you." In his tired state, the boy had forgotten that the gypsy had yet to meet his newest friend, but he was too tired to know or care.
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Post by Clopin on Apr 11, 2011 23:09:30 GMT -5
Clopin sat back for a moment. True. It was very true. He could kill any other stranger easily, and without regret. But someone he knew...that would make a huge difference. Luckily for Puck, Clopin hadn't heard the name Moppet, because by that time, the fae was slurring his words.
"What do you propose we do then?" Clopin asked, with one raised eyebrow.
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Post by Puck on Apr 11, 2011 23:14:36 GMT -5
"I...I don't know," Puck mumbled. "Maybe I just shouldn't...use magic for awhile..." Puck's eyes had completely shut now, and he didn't intend on opening them again. Breathing out a long sigh, he covered his face with his hands, curling into a ball like he usually did when he slept. The emotional and physical drains were causing too much fatigue for the fae to carry on, and these complex questions weren't helping matters. What he really needed to do was rest.
"...if ever again," Puck breathed, just barely audibly as he began to slip into slumber.
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Post by Clopin on Apr 11, 2011 23:18:20 GMT -5
As Puck fell asleep, Clopin took the chance to crack open the window, and sit on the windowsill, to ponder over the thoughts of the day, as he normally did. More than once, his gaze crept over to the curled up ball of a fae on his bed, before returning back to the outside world.
Just who was this person? And why did he...or she...choose Taylor as their victim?
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Post by Puck on Apr 11, 2011 23:31:34 GMT -5
Puck slept for quite some time, remaining in relatively the same position the entire time. But it was far from a peaceful sleep. The boy's head was swarming with dark clouds, uncertainty hiding in their swirling mists as he attempted to rest. He never truly knew just what he was dreaming, but he knew that it was bad.
In a fit of discomfort, Puck tossed and turned onto his side, finally bolting upright and panting as he at last awoke from his nightmare. It took him a minute to realize where he was, but the minute he did, a wave of memories came flooding back to him, and he slowly drew his knees up to his chest, sighing tiredly. He wondered silently if the nightmares would have been better to deal with.
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