Drizzt Do'Urden (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
naturaltwohands) wrote2017-05-07 10:41 pm
naturaltwohands) wrote2017-05-07 10:41 pm
RANDOM REFERENCES
Basically just info I need to remember. Also an attempt to cut down on exposition that I need for myself by writing it down here.
ANCIENT GREECE
HEY A REALLY LONG MINGLE THING THAT IS USEFUL FOR HIS MENTAL STATE. WEEK THREE
Duris is now on the physical mend. Now that his body has been taken care of, his mind is starting to process what he has been through. It is only through the great love that his father and brother have shown him in these last weeks that keeps it from being worse.
But now that he's not exhausted from his physical trials, the nightmares have started. Much of what happened to him has been blocked from his conscious memory, but his subcoscious remembers. It is not every time he goes down for a nap or to bed that he has one, but when he does, he always wakes up screaming for someone.
And that someone is the person who did it to him in the first place, the young boy unable to comprehend the truth that he already knows. "Mama! Mama!"
II. In the eye of the storm.
Duris is just outside the door, staring up at the sky above. Watching the world go by. He's shy. Quiet. Nothing like the outgoing child he once was. He only stands or plays at the door when he's waiting for someone to come back, anxious and not willing to go further back inside. Scared that his brother or father will not come back, but also too scared to leave the relative safety of the traveler's den that is the closest thing they've had to home.
While he had been friendly to strangers before, since he's started to feel better, Duris has begun to withdraw as he's been made to process the truth of his mother's actions. Actions he still refuses to truly understand; not that a four year old could be expected to understand the truth of why his mother tried to kill him on an altar.
The child plays silently with his toys, a small ball made out of rags and a simple but articulated rag doll. He sits on stone to the side of the door, glancing back to make sure he still can view someone inside of the place. Seeming relieved, he turns back to his play. He holds a stick against the end of his doll's arm, pointed downward, and stabs at the ball violently. The stick remains in place between the strips of fabric, and he frowns at it, not that he was smiling during his play to begin with.
After a long moment, he drops the doll where he was holding it up, pulling out the stick from the ball with both hands. Duris throws it to the ground next to him with force, glares at it for a moment, and then picks up the doll again. He brings the doll in to hug the ball.
That's when he notice he's not alone, and Duris looks up at the approaching stranger. He might be recognizable to other Travelers, a splitting young image of his usual teenage human form. Even the eyes are the same lavendar hue that they always are, no matter what form he inhabits. Duris watches the stranger with a guarded look, bringing his toys to hug them against chest. But he does not run, scream, cry, or even frown.
No, his face is blank, as if he doesn't trust the stranger enough to even smile--after all, if he couldn't trust his mother, then how can he trust anyone else other than his father and brother?