| Sep. 12th, 2004 @ 09:15 pm (no subject) |
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Current Mood: protective
Brennan brought Thom to his room, since he has no way of getting into the younger man's room. He remembers what it's like, being too far apart from his lir, and he knows that Thom must have been exausted.
Now Brennan is sitting with his back against the wall, watching the pale, red-haired boy sleep. Sleeta is lying at the foot of the bed, as close as she thinks she can get without Thom bridling and insisting that he doesn't need her.
He feels a bit weird, watching Thom sleep. He's done this before with Corin and Keely, watched over them while they were sick or upset, comforted them after nightmares, but they were his little brother and sister, and this - this is a difficult, contrary boy who seems to have lacked the care and love that he needed while he was alive. Brennan can't imagine someone being so neglected that they're this angry, this untrusting. For all that Thom reminds him of Corin, even Corin isn't this hardened.
He closes his eyes and focuses on the violet light of the Gift. It still makes him shudder, reminding him too much of godfire, but it's somehow prettier than godfire, and not as threatening. That Sleeta will still touch him, even though they can't speak through the lir-link, is reassuring. He'd rather ignore the violet Gift, but if he doesn't fix it, it'll - he doesn't know. Something bad, from everything Thom has said.
He loses track of time as he focuses on healing the Gift, shuddering every time he touches it. A soft sound rouses him, and he opens his eyes. Thom is awake, and Sleeta has gotten up and is standing over him. Brennan's mouth quirks in a quick smile; he's been part of this tableau before, when he's been to stubborn to stay in bed during illess or injury. If he could hear her, Sleeta would probably be saying no. Sleep. Or rest, at least.
"Get off me."
Brennan bites back a grin. "She won't listen to you if she thinks you need the rest."
Thom casts a dirty glare his way before fixing it on Sleeta again. She gazes right back at him with unblinking eyes, and Brennan knows that she is saying once again that Thom should stay in bed and at least rest if he won't sleep.
"Tell your cat to get off me."
Brennan smiles. "Sleeta has a mind of her own. If she thinks you need rest, she'll make sure you get it."
The cat moves a little, but only to lie down across Thom's legs, blinking at him with a superior expression that Brennan has been used to seeing for the past nine years. Thom pushes ineffectually at her, eventually giving up and lying back with a sulky expression that again reminds Brennan of his youngest brother.
"I don't want to go back to sleep," Thom says in a petulant tone, folding his arms and looking like a child trying to look stern and commanding. Brennan resists the urge to chuckle - how can he take this tiny, slender, pale boy seriously when he's used to obeying his jehan, who is probably three times heavier than Thom and nearly twice as tall?
"Then don't sleep. But Sleeta won't let you up until she's convinced you're rested enough." He stands up with less than his normal grace, given that he's still shaking from having the Gift forced on him. "Do you want me to get you anything from the bar? You can't have eaten since yesterday."
Thom glares at him and doesn't reply. Brennan shrugs. "Suit yourself. I'll be back in a few minutes."
He goes down to the bar and asks it for bread and Cheysuli honey-brew, not really expecting the latter and being pleasantly surprised when two wooden cups of the strengthening liquor appear in return for the coins he places on the bar. He returns to his room in time to hear the end of a one-sided argument Thom is having with Sleeta, and losing if the smug expression on the cat's face when he enters is anything to judge by.
Brennan sits down next to the bed, putting the bread and one of the cups on the floor and offering the other to Thom, who eyes it distrustfully. Brennan sighs.
"It's honey-brew. It'll strengthen you, maybe enough that Sleeta will let you up."
The distrustful glare is still levelled at him. Brennan sighs and takes a sip of the liquor, then offers it to Thom again.
"It's not drugged, if that's what you're worried about."
Thom finally accepts the offering, though slowly and still looking at Brennan as though he's grown a second head.
'Gods, what is it going to take to get through to this boy?'
Thom starts looking tired again before long. Hardly surprising, Brennan muses, considering he must not have slept a wink last night. Sleeta has started purring, the sound relaxing and strangely lulling. Brennan remains quiet, waiting for Thom to fall asleep again, then removes the empty cup from the younger man's hand and places it on the table, going back to sit by the bed.
"He's a strange one, isn't he, Sleeta?" he says out loud, since the link no longer works. Thom reminds him quite a lot of Corin, down to the protective urges he seems to be getting. It's odd, feeling protective of such a prickly, defensive young man, but something in Thom's manner and the things he says - and doesn't say - make Brennan think that he's had a much harder time of it than most people his age. And despite his sarcasm and flippant rudeness, Brennan can sense a vulnerability in him.
He sighs. "I suppose it's the tahlmorra of a warrior to want to protect anyone who seems vulnerable."
Sleeta lifts her head and looks at him. He knows what she would be saying if he could hear it.
"Aye, Sleeta, I know. Tahlmorra."
He settles down to watch over Thom, murmuring once, softly, "Cheysuli i'halla shansu, Thom. Cheysuli peace be upon you." |
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