Post by Cathaline on Aug 29, 2013 21:52:36 GMT -5
Newt was fond of his roommate.
In fact he adored his roommate. Letorin was one of the few people at Dalibor - at least within the small sphere of those that candidacy brought him into contact with - who was at least as smart as he was, if not more so. Sometimes their interests diverged (well, they diverged a lot, as Newt was a little obsessed and had a one-track-mind), but it was still fun to talk and debate and not be bored silly. Letorin was the main reason Newt had decided to remain a dual candidate, despite his general disinterest in dragons; he would have to switch rooms if he gave up this half of it, and he wasn't quite ready to do that. No doubt Letorin would Impress at Callistath's upcoming hatching, and then he would think about it again.
At any rate, he was moving back into the same room he'd left when they carted him into the infirmary, bleeding, in shock, and feverish. It had been three days until the fever broke and the infection receded, and a further sevenday after that before they finally let him leave. Personally Newt thought they were being silly; he was healing well, if slowly. But it wasn't his physical injuries they were worried about.
The boy was trying hard to get through his recent bereavement, and he just wanted things to go back to normal. But they couldn't; he wasn't allowed to do chores until the healers okayed his hand, and everyone looked at him differently. And he was different, inside and out.
Limping a bit from the long trek across the Bowl, he checked in briefly with Yuri before hobbling to his room and knocking politely. Letorin must've gotten used to being alone, so he might be naked or something, you never knew. Ordinarily Newt would just burst on in regardless, but he was still rather subdued, not that you'd know it once you got him talking (at least, talking on safe subjects). "Letorin?" he called. "It's me, Newt. I'm back. Can I come in?"
In fact he adored his roommate. Letorin was one of the few people at Dalibor - at least within the small sphere of those that candidacy brought him into contact with - who was at least as smart as he was, if not more so. Sometimes their interests diverged (well, they diverged a lot, as Newt was a little obsessed and had a one-track-mind), but it was still fun to talk and debate and not be bored silly. Letorin was the main reason Newt had decided to remain a dual candidate, despite his general disinterest in dragons; he would have to switch rooms if he gave up this half of it, and he wasn't quite ready to do that. No doubt Letorin would Impress at Callistath's upcoming hatching, and then he would think about it again.
At any rate, he was moving back into the same room he'd left when they carted him into the infirmary, bleeding, in shock, and feverish. It had been three days until the fever broke and the infection receded, and a further sevenday after that before they finally let him leave. Personally Newt thought they were being silly; he was healing well, if slowly. But it wasn't his physical injuries they were worried about.
The boy was trying hard to get through his recent bereavement, and he just wanted things to go back to normal. But they couldn't; he wasn't allowed to do chores until the healers okayed his hand, and everyone looked at him differently. And he was different, inside and out.
Limping a bit from the long trek across the Bowl, he checked in briefly with Yuri before hobbling to his room and knocking politely. Letorin must've gotten used to being alone, so he might be naked or something, you never knew. Ordinarily Newt would just burst on in regardless, but he was still rather subdued, not that you'd know it once you got him talking (at least, talking on safe subjects). "Letorin?" he called. "It's me, Newt. I'm back. Can I come in?"
