Week One: Tuesday - Narrative
Unhappy. That would be one way to put what Diarmad felt in this moment. Displeased. Angry. Wounded. Frustrated. All of those would fit as well. It was obvious in his stance that he was not his typical calm today; it was obvious that he had not been for days now in fact. Everything was wrong. Every aspect of his life felt as though it were not as it should be and he could do nothing to change it. He was a man used to having some…say in how his life was run. He was used to guarding those that wished to be guarded. Now all he cared for kept their distance. They avoided as though Diarmad had done wrong and yet he could not find fault in his actions. Was it wrong to wish to know what they did? Was it wrong to wish to know them?
Wrong or right, Diarmad was here. He stayed to the school as his mistress had demanded though it was not by his choosing that he had. No he was forcefully kept to this place until she was too far gone to easily track. She knew he’d not leave and spend endless days hunting down her path instead of being at the school. She knew he’d feel as though he had to stay for Rebecca and for Cora though he’d not seen either in some time. She played on those ties, using them to her benefit.
The why was one unknown and yet Diarmad had his guesses. None of which put him at ease.
Could she not understand why he had desire to be at her side? Could she not remember that if she fell to her own foolish plans and acts that it was he he too that would crumble? He could not believe that separate was better in any plan. All it did was put them both at risk….she simply was able to face that risk head on while Diarmad was left in the dark. Left to fall without warning or explanation should she make the wrong move.
Was it wrong for him to not wish her harm? Yet he was in the wrong for wishing to be involved. For wanting to face such dangers at her side where it was she made him belong. Demanding he protect and serve and yet shoving him away the moment it was truly, unquestionably, needed.
His classes he had seen to through the days, attempting to keep focused and not allow that inner anger and worry show outwardly to any student. After classes he took place as guard, wandering the halls until the night fell. With the night he’d fly, circling the island, watching all that took place below him. It was only with the rise of the sun that he’d return to start again. No rest, no true pause.
Allowing himself a break to it all allowed his mind to wander, to reach out to one that had no want for him to be with her now. To give himself time to rest gave that anger means to spread till that calm was shaken down to the core. Diarmad did not enjoy such emotions, he could not let them control him when he had so many important tasks to see to.
In the night sky Diarmad flew, wings beating through the air in a near violent rythem to help bleed away that tension. Narrowed eyes watched the school below, ensuring the safety of those inside. Guarding. Protecting. Doing as he was meant to do. It was all he could do for now...