Word Count ::349 I don't think there's need to put mature on this seeing as he's not actually saying the swear word...but I dunno xD Backdated to december the twelfth, quite late at night.
Frodo was in shock.
He was a mess, dripping blood and squinting through wet eyes. He was beyond embarrassed. He’d stopped feeling sorry for himself a long time ago, stopped caring whether anyone saw him or not. The lady was by his side. He knew her. He did. But his brain was all jumbled so he couldn’t even remember who she was and she he knew her. But she’d taken him, the bloody mess of himself, most probably to safely. The short optime male had his tail quivering between his legs and his ears pinned flat against his skull. He hadn’t the faintest idea what was going on. All he could remember, and feel in the present, was the searing pain that ran through his body. Wait.. he croaked to X’yrin. Frodo flopped down on the floor, hugging his legs into himself, rocking back and forth on the spot. His eyes were empty and his face continued to wince every second or so. Effin inferni! he shouted. Effin effin effin inferni! Cuss you. he cussed, knotting his lean fingers into tight little fists.
Mr Silvertongue took a moment to regain his hard drawn breaths and then clutched his chest, looking very unhappy. Then he looked up. And remembered who the lady was. X’yrin… he spoke softly, thinking fondly of her. She’d rescued him with Jace when he first came back, and now she had rescued him again. A hot flush leaked through his face and his intense eyes widened as he hid his face in his knobbly knees, narrow shoulder hunching inwards. What would she think of him? Some snivelling, pitiful creature she felt sorry for more than likely. The man scowled. We gotta stop meetin’ like this… where we goin’, lady of the lamp? he managed to pull himself upwards and then wobbled, limping a little, swaying from side to side. He put a hand on her shoulder to steady himself and then took it away again. Sorry. he muttered sheepishly, angry at needing help. Angry at himself for…well, everything.
Image courtesy of Scott Hudson **; Table by the Mentors!
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