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Chal I Tell A Story?

A place to put drabbles, one-shots, theme challenges, letters to other characters, and other assorted in-character bits.
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    Sat Oct 02, 2021 5:23 am
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Chal I Tell A Story?

Threadfall? Yeah, Right!
Autumn 2772 - Tomoriin and blue Tomosk


It took a lot to rattle Tomoriin. Getting a deep cut in his shoulder was one of them. Sitting on his bed, he put his hand up to his heavily bandaged left shoulder, wincing slightly at the pain. To their credit, the healers had done a good job patching him up, and he was grateful to them for that. While healing had never been of any interest to him, he could respect people that did a job well, and the healers of Semaca had certainly done that. But he'd still be out of action for a couple of weeks, and it was all because of that utter fool.

If it had happened in the line of duty, that would have been one thing. Tomoriin could accept that if he and Tomosk were fighting criminals or spotties, there was a risk that he might get hurt. But the truth of the matter was that it had happened during hand-to-hand combat training, a situation when any wherhandler worth the name would exercise a little caution and restraint. After all, harming one's fellows was the action of a dimglow. This was how he was inclined to describe Anakin, the overzealous and cocky man Tomoriin had been sparring with. And a complete and utter dimglow who couldn't hold himself back in a training session.

Hmmm... Tomosk said thoughtfully from his position on his couch; he lounged like a feline, graceful and at ease, yet still alert as well as he regarded his handler. Tomosk's is only one responsible for Tomosk's situation. Cannot expect fools not to act like fools. Tomosk's must simply evade them.

"Heh. You're right as always, Tomosk," Tomoriin said with a rueful smile. Anakin may have caused the injury, but ultimately it was Tomoriin's fault for assuming that an idiotic hothead would be able to control himself, when really it was Tomoriin's responsibility to take into account each opponent's peculiarities. Just as he'd treat a pirate attack differently to a spotty attack, he ought to be aware that not all of his fellow wherhandlers knew the value of thinking before acting. He should have known in advance that Anakin might get a bit overzealous.

Yet it didn't change the fact that Tomoriin was annoyed. Getting up and heading over to the table, he poured himself a drink and then returned to bed. He felt so useless right now! While he could do simple tasks with his left hand, he couldn't lift anything that weighed too much or move his shoulder to its full range. And he just kept coming back to the fact that he had no choice but to rest up until he'd healed, and his injury was entirely avoidable. He really hoped Anakin was getting a good telling off for his lack of restraint. If Tomoriin couldn't work for a few weeks, then Anakin really ought to be shovelling wher dung for the same length of time.

Tomosk's could always seek own revenge, Tomosk offered. As much as he disliked taking such acts directly, he wasn't above advising others to do so, even his own handler. Carefully. Not directly. Tomosk's make vengeance seem like accident.

"No!" Yet Tomoriin couldn't resist a bit of a laugh. Although Tomosk's suggestion had been serious - or mostly - it had helped to reaffirm for Tomoriin that he didn't want to actually do anything horrible to the man who'd so carelessly ripped his shoulder open. Well, he'd still quite like to see Anakin shovelling wher dung for a while. But he didn't want to hurt him. Tomoriin was better than that. The thing about thinking before he acted was that he actually thought about things. He considered his options, including those Tomosk offered to him, and then decided whether to act on them or not. That was what made him superior to idiots who mistook a training session for a battle to the death.

And it was just possible that he'd stop mentally calling Anakin 'idiot' and 'dimglow' eventually. Once his shoulder stopped hurting and he was no longer restricted to rest, he'd feel more like himself again. Less useless. Less weak. But until then, he was reserving the right to be grumpy, and to call the one who'd hurt him whatever names that came to mind, no matter how rude.
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