Cyr flumped against Niola as he regained himself, letting himself sob into his shoulder as he slowly regained any form of compusure he had left, he looked up at the other student. His face turned from sorrow to concern. His brows furrowing, he asked her:
"Is anyone hurt? And... It's poision, not an external wound - just so you know incase you want to heal me." He said tiredley, he needed rest. He looked into the eyes of the healer, breathing heavily.He stumbled towards the academy, and leant against the wall. Slumping down, his body toiling. Trying to reject the poision. His mind felt.. fuzzy, perhaps this is allso a contributer? Perhaps, biological warfare was allso possible here. Poision could be used to keep some users under control. Cyr grunted, and sighed. "Try to get it out quickly, my head feels... fuzzy..."
He suddenly delved into a deep, deep sleep. His breathing slow, but stable. As a vision overtook his mind.
__________________________________________________ __________
He was but a child again, laying in his bed. His mother, her hair a jet-black like his, hanging looseley to her fair shoulders. She smiled softly, before opening her mouth, a blissfull melody flowing forth from her lips as she sang.
"Alone, he sleeps in the shirt of man...
With my three wishes clutched in his hand...
The first, that he, be spared the pain.
That comes from a, dark and laughing rain.
If he finds love, may it be true.
This one I wish for, the second - I do to...
But wish no more,
My life you can take, just have him live, and have him one day wake..."
Cyr's visions blurred again as he began to think. Where was his mother...? What had become of her? Then it occured to him. She was most likeley dead, the parental gaurdians of the "Gifted" were often huntred down and killed. Beliving they were monsters. He shook his head, suprised that he didn't feel loss.
Frankly, he was beggining to forget her voice.
|