Celebrimbor Helyanwë (suntdracones) wrote in st_margarets, @ 2014-04-05 10:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: ashton hartley, character: barclay grisholt, location: the infirmary |
Thread:
WHO: Barclay and Ashton
WHEN: it's past midnight, some time after THIS
WHERE: A side room in the infirmary
Ashton was alternating between pacing in the corner and sitting down against the wall with his knees drawn up close and his attention fixed on the door behind which the nurse and some others were working on Trent. Ashton had flown back to the academy, clamoring for attention in dragon form, making quite a scene as he called for help, and Ms. Menides had come, along with other staff members, to take Trent's limp form from him and bring the boy inside. It had taken some convincing to get the dragon to release him, as much as he knew, in his panicked state, that it was the best thing for Trent. His instincts still didn't want to give up what was his and finally Ms. Menides and Trent's dire state had convinced him to let go.
He didn't want to lose him, but it might have already been too late.
Told to wait in this room, Ashton was back in his human form and only slightly more calm. How had this happened? How could he hurt Trent, of all people? The boy's blood was on his jacket sleeve where he'd carried him, and the smell was a constant reminder of his actions. Barclay always knew what to do, and Ashton had fumbled out his phone and sent some messages to his witch, trying to think clearly enough to be understood.
With a moan of the turmoil he was in, Ashton sank down against the wall and clawed at his hair, hunching in a cowering position like he was trying to physically hold everything together while at the same time escape it.