Caradoc E. Dearborn (dearly_loved) wrote in unloading_zone, @ 2010-08-15 22:46:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | caradoc dearborn, evan rosier |
Who: Caradoc and Evan
Where: An empty stretch of beach
When: Sunday evening
What: OMG time
Rating: Could get high?
Caradoc slammed the book shut and threw it as far from himself as he could in the small room. Fortunately, his housemate was out and would neither hear nor see the act of violence. His hands were trembling as he stood and paced the length of the bungalow. He couldn't breathe suddenly and one hand moved to cover his stomach. The instant he made contact, his knees struck the floor and there was blood in his mouth where he'd bit his tongue to keep from screaming. From the moment he'd opened his eyes on the island, everything had seemed surreal. Like nothing where he'd come from had ever happened. The pain radiating from his stomach was excruciating. He looked down, and oh. Oh. The skin there was blackened and raised in dozens of festering blisters and fuck, but he needed a healer. What was the rest of his body like? Was there a mirror? Something to cover himself with? He had no trousers and no shirt. No necklace with Evan's ring. What?
After a moment's panic, Caradoc managed to stagger to his feet. There was a mirror. It showed him what he feared - he looked a wreck. And there were no healers, were there? Something in the information he'd received...
Salt water would help. Was the water outside ocean water or fresh? He was afraid to find out. Afraid even to leave the relative safety of the bungalow. Not that it would protect him for very long, now that he studied the construction of the place. It was enough to keep out wind and rain, but beyond that, he would never have much confidence in it.
No matter. He had to get out. Had to get away, before Evan found him. Because Evan would come looking. It was his way. And Caradoc didn't think he was ready to face that particular part of his past just yet. The luggage and the things he'd heard about it were worry enough, even without the horrible mess that was his stomach at the moment. If only it wouldn't get infected. If only he had any of his medical kit with him. There were any number of potions and salves there that would heal the burns straight away. But yes, in all the chaos, there were pants and a shirt. Plain, but they would do. Hopefully they wouldn't stick to the ruined skin too badly. It was all he could do not to cry out as he tugged these on and left the bungalow.
The area around it was empty, thank Merlin. Everyone must've been at work or some such. Caradoc didn't know and didn't care, either. All he wanted was an escape. Soon, he was running. His gait was slow and uneven, but it was faster than walking and required him to pay more attention to where he placed his bare feet than the maelstrom that was his mind. He didn't know how long he'd been going when he came to the end of the road, quite literally. The path dead-ended onto white sand and that gave way to sparkling waters that stretched to the horizon. No! There had to be a way! It wasn't apparition, that was for sure - all the attempt got him was his body thrumming with pain once again. His eyes searched desperately along the empty expanse of beach. No boats, no docks, no nothing! A few pebbles here and there. Shells. But no way home. Not that home was good, but even death might be better than all this confusion, he thought.
Helplessly, hopelessly, Caradoc released a cry of anguish and sank to his knees in the cushioning sand.