fallenlomion

It's not his fault. That's what he keeps telling himself; it's not my fault, it's their fault, they hurt me first, I'm just getting back. But right now, it's not helping. Right now, Maeglin is a bit of a wreck, staggering back from the cliffs looking pale, sweaty, and sick, shaking on his feet with an expression like he's going to vomit. This, this is bad.

But he knows what he has to do, at least. Now more than ever. Head aching with the memory of pain, body bruised from a nearer reminder, scalp just recently stopped bleeding where some hair was torn out - he can't do otherwise. He doesn't have a choice. Who would do otherwise, in his place? And his mother will be safe; that's all that matters.

It's his mother he needs to find now, to talk to. But on his shaky way through the Mansion, delaying to get some water in the kitchen, he may be easily found by others.