Balourne

Balourne The Pretty Boy "Oh... am I in the right place?" _______________________________________________

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Balourne came to the lair as part of a gift exchange. The child of a high end fancy breeding pair, Balourne found his potential new home intimidating to say the least. The lair he was born into was huge compared to this new place, and it had its own fighters, but here... here everyone seemed to have their own little talent, but every single member of the lair was well versed in fighting. Him? He was afraid to get dirt on his claws. His anxiety grew tenfold when he saw who he'd first assumed was a gentle young fae with nearly as little fighting ability as he return home the day after he arrived in what was his potential new home absolutely soaked in blood. A trip to the colliseum. From what he understood she was in training, covered in what to Balourne looked like horrible cuts and injuries-though in reality were little more than a few nicks and bruises that would be healed by morning. And she was grinning ear to ear. Good gods arcanist save him, this was a terrifying place. He never wanted to even think about anything to do with the colliseum after seeing that ever. It seemed like a messy terrifying place, and all there was for him there was unneccesary pain.

But then, he had to wonder; did he truely have a place in this clan? They all seemed to be fighters of some sort. There was no place here for him he feared. It was a matter of time he was sure before they tried to take him to that terrible scary place they called the colliseum, or deemed him weak and unfit. But what could he do? Where could he go? He had not made any friends and not thought to try to find a way to contact his parrents to rescue him from this place. No, they would probably pat him on the head and send him back. Tell him to be strong. But that just wasn't in his nature. So when Melody asked him to help clean a bit of the blood they'd tracked back, the hatchling imperial fainted in the middle of the floor as the fear overtook his young hyperactive imagination, waking up some time later in the medical wing embarassed and somewhat frustrated with himself. What a wreck he was. Fainting! Him! In the middle of a clan full of strong able bodied warrior types. What must they think of him now? He wondered, his fears beginning to snowball themselves again. So he found himself burrowing deep into the blankets and bedding of the medical areas bed, afraid to move and draw any attention to himself. A fine mess indeed.