byron darlington ϟ boy blue (forgivelife) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2011-10-23 22:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | !halloween, !plot week, briar hayes, byron darlington |
Who: Byron Darlington and Briar Hayes
What: A little swordplay foreplay. What?
Where: Briar's house at the Farm, Albany, NY
When: Sunday night, October 23rd, 2011
Warnings: Sappy sap sap. Maybe more. IDK. This is all Once Upon a Time's fault.
Byron Darlington wasn't a violent man. Quite the opposite, in fact. For as long as he could remember, he had always kept his emotions in check, never feeling anything more extreme than mild annoyance in his day-to-day life (except with Oscar, but his brother certainly didn't count). Even in the wars, he'd never been angry – just scared, like every other soldier who fought and died at his side. Anger never entered it into, and rage? Byron – calm, quiet, careful, boring Byron – had never experienced it, not once in one hundred and thirty-eight years.
Until now.
Naturally, however, rage wasn't an instant thing with Byron. The knowledge of Kane Lewis and what he'd done to Briar, his Briar, was the start of it, and over weeks and weeks – months, now – it built. And built. And built. He'd hid it from Briar as well as he could, and he didn't even bother to hide it from Oscar – he just didn't talk about it, which was practically the same thing in the end. Alone, it was harder to bury, so alone, he let it out. The more he thought about it, the more angry he got. The more angry he got, the more he wanted to do something about it. The more he wanted to do something about, the more he wanted to hurt something. Hurt Kane.
But he couldn't do that, of course. He couldn't do anything until they had a plan, which only left him one temporary and highly inadequate solution: taking out his pent-up rage on a poor, defenseless mannequin in the barn at the Farm. He snuck away when he could, mainly when Briar was busy and hopefully wouldn't mind (or notice), but tonight he'd slipped away rather hastily when Briar had left the room just for a moment. Foolish, maybe, but tonight... it was starting to be too much. Doing nothing was killing him, and pretending to kill Kane? Well. It made him feel a little better.
"Oh, god," he groaned to himself, after twenty minutes of vicious hacking and slashing, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his sword hand. "I'm turning into an American." A weary sigh, and he was back at it once more. The mannequin never stood a chance.
If only he could say the same about Kane.