Jun. 22nd, 2012

quarrelsomecat: (After the battles are done)
Being a soldier was not all glory, honor, blood and death. It was long marches, nights of drunken celebrations or quiet, subdued silence. Bandages and blood to the light of a candle and deep, rich songs of the horrors of war and the travel of the spirits of warriors dead, friend and foe alike.

Tybalt rolled one bandaged shoulder, a needle between his teeth as he pulled the candle closer to heat it in the fire. They had had a rougher time than usual of things the previous day. Close calls all around. But they had survived and now was the time to lick their wounds and learn from their mistakes.

Tybalt held the needle over the candle flame, keeping the bloodied square of fabric to the cut on Bran's back. This was not the first time they had spent half the night patching up one another's injuries, and it would not be the last. But it would be the last for a while. Bran was going on a campaign soon. One Tybalt was not allowed or able to follow him into. He would have to try and occupy himself from going mad at the idle time spent waiting for some new task to be given to him. His duties to the forest unnecessary for a while yet.

Carefully stitching up the cut, Tybalt focused on the thread rather than the immediate future. It wasn't working.

"Going to be beyond boring with you off making trouble for someone else." Tybalt tried to sound like he was jokingly indignant, rather than whatever emotion it was. He would send Bran off in true fashion. With liquor and one of the Fae's songs. Any that Tybalt could remember the words to at the time.

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Tybalt The Cat

August 2013

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