Ashura-ou (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wishmadeinfire) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisa2013-05-12 09:34 pm
wishmadeinfire) wrote in paradisa2013-05-12 09:34 pm
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[ It had been what - a week? - since those terrible days. Since the nightmares. He had slept in fits, though Felix's nightmare charms had helped him. He wasn't sleeping much still, though, as afraid to even try sleeping with the charms. He did not much like disturbing Felix, so he often found himself wandering about at night, sitting in their living room or in the library, or, tonight, in the kitchen, trying to make himself tea. Maybe it would help him sleep.
He could have wished it up, but he wanted to make it himself, give himself something to concentrate on him, to focus on for five minutes.
He had managed to make the tea and pour it, and now it was time to handle the mug. It was a more daunting prospect than it seemed, given his hands. He was having sessions to heal them, but they still ached from the damage he had done, and a part of him feared they might never be what they one were. His nails had been filed and smoothed out at least, though it was hard for him to look at the pink lines criss-crossing his palms.
Shaking his head, he reached out, taking the tea mug into his hands, glad for its warmth. He brought it up to his face, to smell it, take in the comfort... and pain seized the nerves of his hands and he gasped, grip loosening enough that the mug slipped from his hand.
The crash of it hitting the floor, shattering was far to loud in Ashura's ears, making him wince. He wanted to curse, staring at the shattered mug, the slowly spreading liquid that was still steaming, but that was not proper, was it? He leaned against the counter, just breathing, letting the tremors in his hands settle down before he went for a cloth. So, you know, watch your step anyone that came in. ]
He could have wished it up, but he wanted to make it himself, give himself something to concentrate on him, to focus on for five minutes.
He had managed to make the tea and pour it, and now it was time to handle the mug. It was a more daunting prospect than it seemed, given his hands. He was having sessions to heal them, but they still ached from the damage he had done, and a part of him feared they might never be what they one were. His nails had been filed and smoothed out at least, though it was hard for him to look at the pink lines criss-crossing his palms.
Shaking his head, he reached out, taking the tea mug into his hands, glad for its warmth. He brought it up to his face, to smell it, take in the comfort... and pain seized the nerves of his hands and he gasped, grip loosening enough that the mug slipped from his hand.
The crash of it hitting the floor, shattering was far to loud in Ashura's ears, making him wince. He wanted to curse, staring at the shattered mug, the slowly spreading liquid that was still steaming, but that was not proper, was it? He leaned against the counter, just breathing, letting the tremors in his hands settle down before he went for a cloth. So, you know, watch your step anyone that came in. ]
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[ There is a silence, Ashura seeming to try and mull over and then finally giving a rueful sound and shaking his head. ]
I am afraid I only understood about one in every five words of that.