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Battle at Harkon Manor
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<blockquote data-quote="Dragonwriter" data-source="post: 5146502" data-attributes="member: 54988"><p>These surroundings were… uncomfortable. Jareth had never cared much for the courtly life his father dealt with, and this place only reminded him of the same. Flowery speech meaning nothing, stifling atmosphere, ridiculous clothes; all of it made the young man sick to his stomach.</p><p></p><p>Still, such thoughts couldn’t stop him from taking advantage of a proper bed. It had been… what, weeks? So long since he got the letter, the ring, the rage. So long since he signed up for the “irregulars.” So long to have been wasting his time! The walls around his room are thick, thankfully, so no one hears the sound of his tormented dreams, dreams of family slain and displayed like trophies, dreams of him tearing a bloody swath through the hordes of faceless, pointy-eared enemies, dreams of him becoming just as vicious as them… No, not dreams… Nightmares.</p><p></p><p>In the morning, he wakes in a sweat, face pale and eyes haunted. The dreams are wiped from his conscious mind, but linger beneath the surface still. He slowly dresses himself in plain clothes, not giving one whit about the available outfits. He is somewhat late to breakfast, having only regained a slight amount of composure. Despite the food being well-prepared, the young man just isn’t hungry. He eats enough to stave off a growing headache, but no more.</p><p></p><p>The disappearance of Aidan gives him something else to think about, if only for a moment. <em><span style="color: crimson"> Stupid farm boy got himself lost in the manor. Figures…</span></em> Helping with the search occupies his attention for some time, at least. Time not to think about his family, about his bastard half-sister…</p><p></p><p>When the search turns up fruitless, he retires to his room, to try to get more restful sleep than he did last night. Then he sees <em>her</em> standing in front of his door. With a sneer and a glare, he growls out, <span style="color: crimson"> “What do you want?”</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Dragonwriter, post: 5146502, member: 54988"] These surroundings were… uncomfortable. Jareth had never cared much for the courtly life his father dealt with, and this place only reminded him of the same. Flowery speech meaning nothing, stifling atmosphere, ridiculous clothes; all of it made the young man sick to his stomach. Still, such thoughts couldn’t stop him from taking advantage of a proper bed. It had been… what, weeks? So long since he got the letter, the ring, the rage. So long since he signed up for the “irregulars.” So long to have been wasting his time! The walls around his room are thick, thankfully, so no one hears the sound of his tormented dreams, dreams of family slain and displayed like trophies, dreams of him tearing a bloody swath through the hordes of faceless, pointy-eared enemies, dreams of him becoming just as vicious as them… No, not dreams… Nightmares. In the morning, he wakes in a sweat, face pale and eyes haunted. The dreams are wiped from his conscious mind, but linger beneath the surface still. He slowly dresses himself in plain clothes, not giving one whit about the available outfits. He is somewhat late to breakfast, having only regained a slight amount of composure. Despite the food being well-prepared, the young man just isn’t hungry. He eats enough to stave off a growing headache, but no more. The disappearance of Aidan gives him something else to think about, if only for a moment. [I][color=crimson] Stupid farm boy got himself lost in the manor. Figures…[/color][/I][color=crimson][/color] Helping with the search occupies his attention for some time, at least. Time not to think about his family, about his bastard half-sister… When the search turns up fruitless, he retires to his room, to try to get more restful sleep than he did last night. Then he sees [I]her[/I] standing in front of his door. With a sneer and a glare, he growls out, [color=crimson] “What do you want?”[/color] [/QUOTE]
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