"Stonegit Loses Beauty" is a Season 3 Day 1 thread.

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Stonegit Brotchurn Elmiss: He remembered…staring. Staring at the crowd around him, starring as Akkey was cared for…did…did his friends come up to him? Had some of them talked to him? He didn’t recall. Maybe they had. The emotional drain he felt now was far worse than what he had felt when he had killed Tal and his men. Nothing…was the most peaceful emotion now. Dark…depressive…nothing. The only thing that broke this pattern was a sudden rise in anger.

Stonegit blinked, finding himself sitting in his chair by his window, starring down at the hand that had killed his beloved King Haddock. The funeral would be soon. There was no body…so everybody would have time to prepare to make it good…worth something. His throat tightened and he looked up. It was night now, he was parched, and stiff. The chair creaked as he stood up, walking to Haddock’s old room. He looked down at his bed, and then the night stand where the tea tray he had brought him still sat. Another half hour went by until finally the boy blinked, and then locked the door, closing it behind him so that nobody would enter it again.

Stonegit glanced down his arms. Bandages? Oh…somebody must have treated his injuries. He pulled up his shirt, seeing the wraps around his stomach. They hurt, now that he thought about it, ached actually. He glanced away, his eyes looking dead and destitute. The doc said the rock that hit him in the head had indeed blinded his good eye. Not not the sight in his lazy eye. That had just been brain damage. The Warden possessing him, and just time to heal had returned his vision in his altered eye. He had to move his head around a little to get a good look at things…but at least he could see. It was funny really, the eye he cursed before was now his main source of sight.

His eyes opened. He had fallen asleep in his room. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes, was his hand. That hand. That thing! That wretched tan bit of flesh that had killed Haddock! He reeled back, starring at it as if it was a rotted corpse. It was so nice looking. A perfect little hand, sickeningly angelic, as if it had done no wrong. Stonegit trembled, shaking with rage as he looked at that nice, well serving, innocent hand. He…HATED it! His eyes flared and he leaned forward, sinking his teeth deep into his hand, blood welling from it. Grinding his teeth, he finally pulled back, gasping as pain ran up his already hurting arm. He gulped, coughing, starting to feel ill. But then he stopped. The hand…didn’t…look…so…nice…not anymore.

The red hot fire poker hissed as Stonegit placed yet another hook shaped burn into the flesh of his mangled hand. It had been bitten, cut, pounded, and burned. The boy swallowed deeply, raising it to his face so he had a good look at it. It was…ugly, horrific, it looked the way it deserved to look, and Stonegit no longer felt angry looking at it. He wrapped it up, apply a salve to take away the burning feeling, and stuffing it into his pocket. It would still be useful when it healed, but it would never be good…never again.   

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