05-26-2020, 07:40 PM
Thorn might have smiled if he had known Clegane didn't immediately notice his wound. It is rare that he isn't stared at in shock or horror or pity, and the stranger's distinct lack of those emotions timidly energizes him. His ears perk forward to pay more attention, eyes trained on Clegane's so he might know when this enchantment will be cut short by his curse.
The rivulets of blood and fleshy scent do eventually find purchase in the scarred stallion's gaze. Thorn begins to feel the light wink out of his eyes when Clegane unknowingly tosses gasoline upon him. He comes to life, suddenly straight-backed and sharp, startled by the stranger's jump but mostly keen to know if that glimpse of pink is truly mottled flesh.
The candles in his gaze crackle to life, now burning, groaning houses. Those too slow to escape their dying home cry from within, sing the songs of Clegane's suffering, the ache of their overused and smoke-coated cries in tune with the drip, drip, drip of Thorn's blood. "You're in so much pain," the sabino gasps out, lilac gaze settling hard on the now-shadowed man.
"I can't be there because of pain like yours," Thorn states bitterly, voice filled with the kind of venom that doesn't take affect until hours later, when one thinks they are safe. His chest aches, loud and angry and swollen. Clegane has a special, quiet pain Thorn has rarely encountered. When it leaves, his open skin will remain large and irritated, soon festering like the remains of a vicious cat's bite.
"Why are you in pain?"
Thorn has never asked that before, not even to his family.
But now he is angry and rueful. What needless suffering will he have a hand in tonight?
The rivulets of blood and fleshy scent do eventually find purchase in the scarred stallion's gaze. Thorn begins to feel the light wink out of his eyes when Clegane unknowingly tosses gasoline upon him. He comes to life, suddenly straight-backed and sharp, startled by the stranger's jump but mostly keen to know if that glimpse of pink is truly mottled flesh.
The candles in his gaze crackle to life, now burning, groaning houses. Those too slow to escape their dying home cry from within, sing the songs of Clegane's suffering, the ache of their overused and smoke-coated cries in tune with the drip, drip, drip of Thorn's blood. "You're in so much pain," the sabino gasps out, lilac gaze settling hard on the now-shadowed man.
"I can't be there because of pain like yours," Thorn states bitterly, voice filled with the kind of venom that doesn't take affect until hours later, when one thinks they are safe. His chest aches, loud and angry and swollen. Clegane has a special, quiet pain Thorn has rarely encountered. When it leaves, his open skin will remain large and irritated, soon festering like the remains of a vicious cat's bite.
"Why are you in pain?"
Thorn has never asked that before, not even to his family.
But now he is angry and rueful. What needless suffering will he have a hand in tonight?
@[Clegane]