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To correct an injustice [ATTN Deneira and Ata]


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The harsh loud ring of hard-heeled boots echoed across the walk as the heels drove hard into the cobbles. As if each stomped step could crush the agitation and furry welling up inside, Corin hastened down the barrack walk; his red cloak fluttering angrily behind. The morning exercise was to be a simple one. A little surprise for his mentee; a chance for him to see what his future might look like when he completed the path he had chosen. Corin had not taken Dorian on a tour of the guards yet; did not feel the boy was settled enough to comprehend the commitment he would be giving of himself when the time came for him to visit the glade in ceremony. Even this morning while he had made his way to the barracks in silent thought he was not sure the boy would understand all; that he could explain it all. For this part Corin usually relied on the trainee’s eyes to bring to there consciousness the absolute magnitude of the journey they would take upon accepting the Red Cloak. But that was the first big problem of the day. How would Dorian see that when the boy was blind?


Anger surged inside him again and he crushed it in an iron fist of determination. Even the thought of what had happen so far this morning set his rage to blaze. He had arrived quietly at the twin’s room hoping to roust Dorian without disturbing his other roommates. But when he had entered the room he found his brother only. That was bad enough to set his mood on edge; having to practically drag the answers out of Danian only made it worse. But the answer was what broke his controlled grasp on calmness. Deneira, that stupid meddling, over confident, over bearing women had messed with the wrong trainee this time. He tolerated, only by the barest of threads, her abusive treatment of Danian the trainee assigned to her. If the MOT did not say anything it was not his place to interfere as much as he would have liked to. But she crossed the line when she began to meddle in the affairs of Dorian; his charge.


A pair of early risers heading to the track by the looks of them shed back into the shadow of their barrack doorway as he pounded by sparing them not a glace. He knew anger held plain on his face and twisted the normally subdued mask to a dark furrow. But at the moment he cared not and allowed it to remain as he searched for the source of his anger and frustration. Snapping at a trainee that happened across his path he was quickly directed to the sparing area as a last know location of the offending woman. Typical, I should have guessed.


Crossing a grass section toward the sparing area he spotted Deneira; locking an ice-cold gaze on her. Ironically it seemed almost fitting to find her here, an area were she inflicted additional unwarranted pain on her own charge. Time had come to vindicate some of that abuse. His hands turned into tight fits; palms yarned for the familiar feel of a wooden lathe in which to exact some needed discipline on her. “Deneira! You have gone to far this time woman. You better have a very bloody good explanation for where Dorian is.†He stopped short in front of her, eyes still fixed on hers.



OOC: Weak but it's a start.

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