I embrace the Sunhawkitis....
Dec. 2nd, 2004 04:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lavandarlizard2Um... This one is rather short; sorry. Longer parts ahead, I swear.
BFB - 082c - Wufei's Disaster
Mistress Loquinn looked up wearily at the scratching sound on her office door. Too high to be the cat... She wasn’t in the mood for visitors. The sun had barely risen after a cold dark night spent watching over her patient and she was tired, physically and emotionally.
The damage done to the Banshee was startling, but not overwhelming; she had healed worse, but never anything quite so fraught with these unsettled emotions. She had made sure, without telling Heero or Tiffany, that Duo wouldn’t remember a thing. Being hit in the face by a five-pound ceramic pot was not a memory he needed to retain; nor was the shock of the moment of impact. No, when the Banshee awoke, he would be as good as new and completely oblivious.
Maybe if she just ignored it, whoever was out there would just go away...
...Or not, as the scratching continued.
~*~
The healer look exhausted. Another thing for him to atone for; add it to the list.
She glared down at him, a Valkyrie prepared to do battle; he lowered his eyes in shame.
“I came to ask... if Duo is all right... And... and also to ask... for help...” he whispered.
Gods, how it hurt to say that! To abase himself, to admit to a weakness so humiliating.
Mistress Loquinn eyed him narrowly before opening the door fully and admitting him to her office. He left a puddle where he had stood; the Were-Dragon was dripping. Automatically, she waved her hand, drying his clothing. Well. Someone had spent some time outside this past night. She couldn’t quite manage to feel sorry for him.
“Duo is still sleeping; he will be fine when he wakes.” She seated herself behind her desk, well aware that her chair was a good six inches higher than his and that she thus loomed over him in a rather threatening manner. “Just what sort of help are you looking for, Chang?”
He winced, his hands twisting together nervously.
It took a couple of false starts before he was able to spit it out, and even then his voice was so low she could barely hear him. “I can’t manage my temper; I... I need help. Professional help...” His boots were apparently the most fascinating things in the world.
Would wonders never cease! She exhaled a silent sigh of relief. She had been prepared to tell him that his continuing position at the Castle depended on him accepting some sort of help; that these temper tantrums had to stop, before he killed someone. How much better that he had reached that same conclusion. And how difficult that must have been...
“All right; I will give you a name and you will go. Today. And report back to me.”
If she expected an argument, she didn’t get it.
“Yes, Mistress,” was all he said in a thin whisper. He didn’t even ask if he could see Duo.
...tbc...
BFB - 082c - Wufei's Disaster
Mistress Loquinn looked up wearily at the scratching sound on her office door. Too high to be the cat... She wasn’t in the mood for visitors. The sun had barely risen after a cold dark night spent watching over her patient and she was tired, physically and emotionally.
The damage done to the Banshee was startling, but not overwhelming; she had healed worse, but never anything quite so fraught with these unsettled emotions. She had made sure, without telling Heero or Tiffany, that Duo wouldn’t remember a thing. Being hit in the face by a five-pound ceramic pot was not a memory he needed to retain; nor was the shock of the moment of impact. No, when the Banshee awoke, he would be as good as new and completely oblivious.
Maybe if she just ignored it, whoever was out there would just go away...
...Or not, as the scratching continued.
~*~
The healer look exhausted. Another thing for him to atone for; add it to the list.
She glared down at him, a Valkyrie prepared to do battle; he lowered his eyes in shame.
“I came to ask... if Duo is all right... And... and also to ask... for help...” he whispered.
Gods, how it hurt to say that! To abase himself, to admit to a weakness so humiliating.
Mistress Loquinn eyed him narrowly before opening the door fully and admitting him to her office. He left a puddle where he had stood; the Were-Dragon was dripping. Automatically, she waved her hand, drying his clothing. Well. Someone had spent some time outside this past night. She couldn’t quite manage to feel sorry for him.
“Duo is still sleeping; he will be fine when he wakes.” She seated herself behind her desk, well aware that her chair was a good six inches higher than his and that she thus loomed over him in a rather threatening manner. “Just what sort of help are you looking for, Chang?”
He winced, his hands twisting together nervously.
It took a couple of false starts before he was able to spit it out, and even then his voice was so low she could barely hear him. “I can’t manage my temper; I... I need help. Professional help...” His boots were apparently the most fascinating things in the world.
Would wonders never cease! She exhaled a silent sigh of relief. She had been prepared to tell him that his continuing position at the Castle depended on him accepting some sort of help; that these temper tantrums had to stop, before he killed someone. How much better that he had reached that same conclusion. And how difficult that must have been...
“All right; I will give you a name and you will go. Today. And report back to me.”
If she expected an argument, she didn’t get it.
“Yes, Mistress,” was all he said in a thin whisper. He didn’t even ask if he could see Duo.
...tbc...
