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Old October 24th, 2012 (4:52 PM).
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Garet Garet is offline
    Join Date: Dec 2010
    Location: Krysemna, a place yet to be written...
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    Posts: 728
    It hadn't taken long for Hanso's broken arm to be checked, treated, and splinted. It helped that he'd fallen unconscious sometime after the battle, so he hadn't registered all of the pain afterwards. Once Hanso was awake and the healers were done treating his arm, he was scolded for fighting with a broken arm. Then they told him that if he let his arm rest, with emphasis on "rest", then the splint could be taken off within the next three to seven days. They still emphasized letting it rest afterwards.

    Fat chance of that.

    Hanso was forced, partly by the healers and partly by his own exhaustion and pain, to eat and rest for the first day after the battle, though he wasn't at all excited. The next day, Hanso had awoken and left his resting place to walk around the city, attempting to help with several different ongoing projects. Much of what he was able to do, or allowed to do, was help carry things with his good right arm. Hanso found himself...lacking. He was part psychic, yet he didn't know much about moving objects with his mind.

    Throughout the second day, Hanso entertained these and other thoughts. He hadn't bothered to shield his telepathic network the day before, until Genevieve had intruded. Sovereign had three different personalities or minds or somethings, one of which was more or less battle-mode; Hanso wondered if a powerful or skilled psychic could get into the Tyranitar's mind and keep that battle-mode from escaping. Having a broken arm showed Hanso that he was lacking in psychic powers, so he thought. He'd focused all along on physical prowess with his two arm-blades, with some evasion tactics thrown into the mix. Take away one or both blades, though, and Hanso found himself somewhat useless.

    As Hanso sat and waited for the Chansey to finish checking his arm, the afternoon before the Gold Tribe was due to leave, he thought, I need to find a mentor. Who, though? "You have a fast recovery, Mr. Gold Tribe," the Chansey noted, replacing Hanso's splint. "Come back tomorrow morning, and I think we can take that off. Don't go off and rush it, though."

    Hanso merely nodded. His question bugged him for the rest of that day and the next morning as he got the splint removed for good. His left arm was still fairly raw from the last few days, and the semicircles of teeth marks stood out as very pale scars on his forearm. Hanso thought that they might remain for the rest of his life. However short it might be... He was silent as he joined the rest of the Gold Tribe for the walk to the Golden Catacombs.

    It wasn't long before Guardia spoke. "Hey, so, we don't really know the new guys too well." She said, motioning to the Swift, Ignus, and the Healer. "What do you say guys? Care to share a bit about yourselves?"

    The Swift, a Scizor, was the first to speak. Hanso didn't pay much attention, his own thoughts drifting. He was hanging near the back of the group, and his eyes glanced over at Penance. He hadn't heard the Golduck say a single word since the battle, at least during the times that Hanso found the both of them eating in the same place at the same time. That hadn't been often. I don't blame him. The newcomers and Gallant are pretty much the only ones who weren't present during the lie. The question, on this subject, was whether Penance would ever trust any of them again.

    Too early to say so right now, Hanso thought to himself, but I know for myself that I won't repeat that guilty silence.