Post #2516462 in Birthstone Spirits: The Great Escape, a roleplay on RPG

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago(well, not quite that long- Dorian had only had cable when he'd turned ten and he and his father moved out of their dinky, technology-phobic apartment) Dorian had seen a particularly disturbing report on one of those nature shows about coyotes. As it turned out, when one stepped in a bear trap or was similarly stuck in an impossible situation, rather than face starvation or wait for someone to kill them, coyotes tended to chew off the trapped limb in order to live another day. At the time he'd found it ridiculous, sure in his child mind that he would surely have found a more intelligent and less painful way to escape if he'd been trapped in an impossible situation. At this very moment, with two out of line young men acting like, well, idiots, he began to reconsider that thought and, really, at this moment, attempting to chew his own arm off seemed like the only viable option. Not because that would actually help him physically escape- unless he happened to bleed out and die, but that was a morbid thought altogether and, really, he had too much to live for- but because if he started to do so, he'd surely make both boys uncomfortable, they'd leave him alone, and hopefully never speak to him ever again.

He wasn't sure how it came to this; he never was with these loud personalities. One moment he'd been firmly assuaging Harper's paranoia that Dorian was some kind of predator despite having been perfectly fine with "Dory" until figuring out "her" gender, and the next Kyle was by his side, arms crossed like a wannabe bouncer, chest puffed out and a threat growled. Which, of course, Dorian hadn't asked for at all. Even if this had been going the physical confrontation route- and it really hadn't been because Harper was, to beat a metaphor to death, far too much like a tiny, yappy dog in that he was all bark and no bite- Dorian, who was taller than both boys by far and an actual third degree black belt in Tae-Kwon-Doh didn't need someone rushing to his side to defend him. Not only was being treated like a particularly dim damsel in distress(dim in that even the sweetest damsel could probably take Harper on in a fight at this moment) something that Dorian didn't take kindly to, but the whole creations of sides was wearing on his last nerve as well. This wasn't a fight that anyone needed to be involved in- Hell, this wasn't a fight at all. Kyle had made it an altercation with an unspoken but very clear threat, escalating this situation to stupid proportions more likely than not to focus his anger-issues in what he saw as a constructive way- threatening his own teammate, especially since it was Harper.

And Harper, well, Dorian was halfway to a Pavlovian response in that every time he heard the other boy's voice, he'd get a headache, nausea, or both. The only halfway pleasant thing he'd ever heard Harper say to him was a quick thank you after saving his life today. After he'd jumped off a cliff, dove into a lake, and dragged the other's body to shore. Now he was being howled at and, to top it all off, Harper was playing the victim. Woe is Harper, the eternally disliked character, kept only to be harassed and harangued unfairly by the big bad teenagers who'd saved his life because no one wanted to see anyone die, who'd checked on him afterwards, who'd started a completely pleasant conversation with him despite the fact that he best communicated with swears and yells. Right. They were all the bad guys because it couldn't be Harper's fault- never his fault. It was Dorian's fault for being vaguely offended that he went territorial big brother on him. That was it, quite obviously. This was Dorian starting a fight.

This was Sadie's charming older brother? Well, Dorian sure as fuck would never be recounting what happened on this trip to her because he never wanted her to know how her beloved "Spielberg" acted when she wasn't around. No matter what Harper seemed to think, he wasn't that cruel.

Now Harper had vanished into the water, every part a tragic character except for the part that his tragedy was as fictional as could be. But Dorian wasn't in the business of arguing with idiots. He wouldn't shout and rave and rant because that would give Harper the vindication he so desperately wanted. He'd been done with Harper since literally day one, however long ago that had been. What he hadn't mentioned tonight, or any night before, was how he'd arrived in the group, gaunt and injured and scarred far too much to have just been separated from them for a day or two. It wasn't that anyone particularly cared and he didn't really expect them to- they had their own worries for the most part or were too busy living in their own little them-centric worlds. What Dorian wanted to do was to go home, to crawl into bed until his father came in to check with a cup of hot tea and something he'd whipped up in the kitchen. What he wanted was to be in the dojo, thrashing a punching bag until his muscles ached and his anger was satiated. He wanted his cello, to distract and express what he'd rather not with words in the privacy of his own home or practice room. He wanted to sit in the ice-cream parlor with Sadie, listening to her talk about her day until the cheerful or irritated chatter lulled him into complacency. He wanted long walks in Central Park, visits to local restaurants, orchestra practices, school, cars, cellphones, laptops, his own clothes, his own bed, his own life. But he wasn't like Harper, couldn't escape into a comfort from home like a regular Aquaman. He was left to stew in his wants and desires and- oh, God. His eyes weren't wet were they? They were and that just wouldn't do.

He ignored the prickling of tears and turned to Kyle, the only one from the little drama still present.

"I can take care of myself," blunt, never harshly so, but brutal honesty tends to hurt sometimes more than a hissed out insult. "So don't pick fights using me as an excuse. Don't talk to Harper, don't apologize to him. He'll be back when he wants to be and it's not your or my job to make sure he's happy because you know he wouldn't do the same for us. Just… Just go to sleep and we're going to pretend this never happened in the morning." With that, Dorian turned on his heel and moved further up the beach, closer to the forest. It was further from the fire, but, unlike everyone else, he didn't exactly want to sleep on sand and the further he was from the rest of them, the further he was from a complete meltdown, which was for the better. Someone had to be mature around here, even if it was just by keeping his mouth shut, a talent so few of the Month Warrior group seemed to have. God… Maybe those coyotes had had the right idea.

Snippet #2516462

located in Aires, a part of Birthstone Spirits: The Great Escape, one of the many universes on RPG.

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