01-10-2010, 03:10 AM
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It was actually sometime in the early afternoon since they have no electric light. Or electricity :o.
Strelein whined, trying to examine the needles further, testing each one with a slight jab. Naturally it seemed like all five were embedded as deep as the first, which meant it hurt enough to warrant a grunt of pain. He held his foot, trying to find a way to limit the blood flow. Blood beaded where the heads of the needles were. One or two ran down his foot and dripped onto the hardwood flooring. Strel bit at his lip, feeling his hands shaking at the pain. Now how did this happen? What had driven him to not look where he was walking, let along leave the needles on the ground where he could very clearly step on them? There was no use at crying over spilled milk, but this spilled milk hurt badly.
Glancing up at the words though blurry eyes, Strel blinked to see more clearly who it was. Once he could make out the woman, for now he saw it was a she, he noted the stains on her shirt. Probably blood. Putting it out of his mind, he listened to her question. He absently shook his head, knowing fully well that she probably had to say that. They always did. His parents always did whenever he fell or tripped, even if they knew what was wrong with him. The woman could plainly see what it was that pained him so, so he deigned not even answer her question. Looking back down at the blood drops on the floor and the streams on his pads, Strel winced as he shifted his body a bit, jostling the needles with his thumb.
"I'm not about to get much worse," he confirmed, though he let out a whine. Strel moved his head back against the wall, head spinning a bit. Pain was a big enemy of Strel's. He always hated getting hurt once he became an 'adult'. Or, rather, adult aged. Even now he tried to minimize his risk of pain. That was probably why he sewed and plucked at a string instrument instead of doing something like woodworking or horseback riding. Quite a weakling was the redhead. So here he sat among his cloth, bobbins, and needles.
Grimacing briefly, Strel gave a weak smile at Alaine. "I don't really think I can get up and walk away now, unless I plan to run away from you on one foot." He waved her over, hoping she would help him soon, since he really did not want to have those silvery needles stuck in his pad any longer. Better to get rid of the pain rather than wait for him to get used to it and then feel it all over again when they were pulled. "I'm Strel by the way, miss." It was a rather strange way of getting to know someone new; have them help him heal. Of course the accident had been his own stupid error, but that was beside the point. To think he did not know this woman who was in his own pack, and from the looks of it, stayed in the hotel as well. How was that possible?
It was actually sometime in the early afternoon since they have no electric light. Or electricity :o.
Strelein whined, trying to examine the needles further, testing each one with a slight jab. Naturally it seemed like all five were embedded as deep as the first, which meant it hurt enough to warrant a grunt of pain. He held his foot, trying to find a way to limit the blood flow. Blood beaded where the heads of the needles were. One or two ran down his foot and dripped onto the hardwood flooring. Strel bit at his lip, feeling his hands shaking at the pain. Now how did this happen? What had driven him to not look where he was walking, let along leave the needles on the ground where he could very clearly step on them? There was no use at crying over spilled milk, but this spilled milk hurt badly.
Glancing up at the words though blurry eyes, Strel blinked to see more clearly who it was. Once he could make out the woman, for now he saw it was a she, he noted the stains on her shirt. Probably blood. Putting it out of his mind, he listened to her question. He absently shook his head, knowing fully well that she probably had to say that. They always did. His parents always did whenever he fell or tripped, even if they knew what was wrong with him. The woman could plainly see what it was that pained him so, so he deigned not even answer her question. Looking back down at the blood drops on the floor and the streams on his pads, Strel winced as he shifted his body a bit, jostling the needles with his thumb.
"I'm not about to get much worse," he confirmed, though he let out a whine. Strel moved his head back against the wall, head spinning a bit. Pain was a big enemy of Strel's. He always hated getting hurt once he became an 'adult'. Or, rather, adult aged. Even now he tried to minimize his risk of pain. That was probably why he sewed and plucked at a string instrument instead of doing something like woodworking or horseback riding. Quite a weakling was the redhead. So here he sat among his cloth, bobbins, and needles.
Grimacing briefly, Strel gave a weak smile at Alaine. "I don't really think I can get up and walk away now, unless I plan to run away from you on one foot." He waved her over, hoping she would help him soon, since he really did not want to have those silvery needles stuck in his pad any longer. Better to get rid of the pain rather than wait for him to get used to it and then feel it all over again when they were pulled. "I'm Strel by the way, miss." It was a rather strange way of getting to know someone new; have them help him heal. Of course the accident had been his own stupid error, but that was beside the point. To think he did not know this woman who was in his own pack, and from the looks of it, stayed in the hotel as well. How was that possible?