Can you hear the magpie?

Can you hear the magpie?
IP: 24.34.193.115
Posted on September 9, 2013 at 08:17:15 AM by Alistair

'God he's touchy.' Was the first thing that sprang to the boy's mind as soon as the younger one spoke. He obviously took things too literally. Alistair couldn't completely blame him for not trusting him, but he trusted much more easily than others did. In the glade, the boys had had to trust each other. They relied on it to survive. If even one boy couldn't be trusted to do what he was told, their whole little society would fall apart. It gave them an extreme sense of loyalty. But it also made them untrustful of adults, the ones who had put them in the glade in the first place. Who made them part of an "experiment." He hoped the ones responsible rotted on some prison cell for all the torture they'd put the boys through. Alistair was glad that those before him were teenagers, though he wasn't taking a shine to the boy and wasn't sure how to behave around the girl. The glade had been exclusively male and seeing as the only thing he had remembered was his name, the boy didn't quite know how act. He decided he would just be normal and polite (at least the politeness that was considered courteous in the maze). He held himself higher than that though. Adopting the glader slang but still keeping a more formal way of speaking. The young boy was being a bit snarky and Alistair actually bit his tongue to keep from saying, "I wasn't asking you to open the gate." and telling him off loudly and rudely. "Ya I can ice it meself. Already did so, but thank you ever so much for your help." he said as genuinely as possibly, emphasizing the "ever so much" as much as he could. He meant well, but after two years of sarcasm it was hard to revert back to kindness. He would have asked the child's name, but no longer felt inclined to do so and began ignoring him instead. If the kid wasn't going to at least try to be nice, then Alistair wasn't going to try to care what he said.

The giant now turned his attention to the girl, who began speaking. At least she was respectful and well mannered. It was her question that bothered him to no end. Should he tell them the real reason? He hadn't told anyone, not even Newt or Alby. Everyone had made the assumption it was a Griever and so the scot went with it. The truth was not something he felt comfortable sharing with anyone, even his best friend. He supposed he could say a bit. " I fell." he said bluntly to the girl. It was a very touchy subject. His eyebrows raised beneath his black hair. Attack? Confusion filled his multi colored eyes. "Menekhitie?" the word was forgein and odd in his mouth. If he was he would have no memory of it. But if he was the name would mean something. It didn't, so the logical assumption was that he was not one.

A brief pause followed, but the girl ended it with an introduction. Alethea. That was her name. "a pleasure, Alethea." Alistair said. He attempted to smile when she assured him no one would hurt him, but glancing back the the short boy next to her highly doubted that. Someone could always hurt him. He was handy with a knife and all, but without the use of his right arm, fights were hard to win. No matter how hard he fought. "...should have no trouble with that wound..." he almost scoffed. Perhaps not the surface wound. It was the internal injury that was permenant. A shattered shoulder blade. Shattered into tiny slivers and the rest of his bones cracked and fragile. He didn't want them healed with magic. It would be to strange. At this point, the pain was so consistent he felt odd in the rare moments it vanished. Alistair had always used it as a metaphor for his running. Maybe if he ran far enough, fast enough, hard enough, he could outrun his pain. It was what pushed him each and everyday. What kept him from giving up. It gave him fight. But he said nothing, merely gave a quick smile.

The teen flicked his gaze to the ground, feeling a bit sick. Speak of the devil; his pain returned. This time stronger than ever. It had never been confirmed, but Alistair was fairly certain he'd torn some muscles as well as destroying the scapula. The clinking of metal brought his attention back to the gate. Guards. In a swift motion the swung open the gates open, pulling the boy in. Teeth bit hsi lip so hard they drew blood as he retained a scream. Alistair did want to seem like a sissy to people bed only meet. But the pain was probably evident in his eyes, which had began watering when the armour clad men tugged him in. They let go and surround him and their small procession makes its way slowly through the castle ground. A dagger hilt glimmered before Alistair and he could feel his fingers twitching. It would be so easy. One swift motion and the blade would be in his possession. 'No now..' he thought, clenching his fists to try to stem the thoughts of theivery. Kleptomania was a drag, but over the years the teen had been perfecting techniques to control himself. They worked.... For the most part. In an effort to distract himself, the teen looked around at the magnificent structure that had caught his eye earlier. It rivaled the Maze in terms of impressiveness, edging out only because Alistair had never seen a castle. He had to admit, it was a castle fit for a king.

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