01-23-2020, 10:19 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]Limber? Heavens, no, that's far too generous. Malnourished is more like it—emaciated would be a better word, if you're particularly dramatic. It's a good thing Edmund decides to hold his tongue, otherwise Elwin would have possibly lunged for him. His height is such a sensitive thing, being barely sixteen and well over six feet tall, not solely because he towers over most of his peers, but because he doesn't have much control over his own gangly body. Sure, he looks graceful and thin standing still, but watching him try to maneuver is a feat within itself.
Yes, Grandpa hits hard, but not often, and Elwin isn't so unaware of himself that he'd dare to say it was undeserved. He thinks, had he been in his grandfather's place, he would have done just the same, but he would have done it three more times just for good measure. Who can blame that guy if it turned out he needed his jaw wired shut? He can practically hear that man grumbling good riddance under his breath.
Funny how only the tale of his awful abuse is what makes Edmund relax. He insists, he's only as dangerous as the box of matches in his pocket, and it's clear to see through his thin cotton shirt and raggedy, holey pants that he's unarmed. He can understand being cautious, but the thought of drawing your gun on some skinny kid with a dislocated jaw is flat-out paranoid ... in his humble opinion, anyways.
Elwin opens his mouth to say something snarky, but shuts up quickly when pain shoots up the side of his face. Instead, he opts to clutch at his jaw and whimper, fight draining from his face. He feels so tired all of a sudden, eyelids drooping, and all he wants is to lay down in the cold snow and sleep. Maybe it's just the fact that he ran the whole way here, but the frost feels nice on his hot skin for once.
Edmund's introduction actually makes him laugh. Not because anything is funny, but because he is so, so incredibly bitter. It's a mirthless laugh, followed by a wry smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Hey, Grandpa," he grits out, unable to quell his mocking tone, "Did you follow me here?"
He doesn't explain. He just assumes they'll figure it out themselves. "A bed would be nice," Elwin says. "And a lighter, too, if that's not asking too much."
Yes, Grandpa hits hard, but not often, and Elwin isn't so unaware of himself that he'd dare to say it was undeserved. He thinks, had he been in his grandfather's place, he would have done just the same, but he would have done it three more times just for good measure. Who can blame that guy if it turned out he needed his jaw wired shut? He can practically hear that man grumbling good riddance under his breath.
Funny how only the tale of his awful abuse is what makes Edmund relax. He insists, he's only as dangerous as the box of matches in his pocket, and it's clear to see through his thin cotton shirt and raggedy, holey pants that he's unarmed. He can understand being cautious, but the thought of drawing your gun on some skinny kid with a dislocated jaw is flat-out paranoid ... in his humble opinion, anyways.
Elwin opens his mouth to say something snarky, but shuts up quickly when pain shoots up the side of his face. Instead, he opts to clutch at his jaw and whimper, fight draining from his face. He feels so tired all of a sudden, eyelids drooping, and all he wants is to lay down in the cold snow and sleep. Maybe it's just the fact that he ran the whole way here, but the frost feels nice on his hot skin for once.
Edmund's introduction actually makes him laugh. Not because anything is funny, but because he is so, so incredibly bitter. It's a mirthless laugh, followed by a wry smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Hey, Grandpa," he grits out, unable to quell his mocking tone, "Did you follow me here?"
He doesn't explain. He just assumes they'll figure it out themselves. "A bed would be nice," Elwin says. "And a lighter, too, if that's not asking too much."
[sub]the artist formerly known as hal[/sub]
Hoot gives Hal’s body a hug