Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the formerly handsome starving artist descendant of the late Jack Starsmore, heir of nothing in particular, attempting for all he was worth to fly under the radar of Clan Akkaba, and wielder of mysterious powers which he resented deeply and constantly battled to suppress, woke up this morning.
And before he did anything else, his hands flew to his face where, to his great dismay, he felt very little. He felt an emptiness under bandages, some vague pressure and warmth of the psionic flame that had destroyed his chest and lower jaw, and nothing more. No throat, no chin, no lips. And, as his fingers trailed upward from bandage to skin, he could feel the delicate spiderweb of burn-scars over flesh, just as they had been before the weekend.
If Jono could be ill, he might have been, just then.
As it stood, he gave his head a small shake, closing his eyes and fighting back the sudden, desperate need to scream. A psionic shout wouldn't be half as satisfying as the words he'd been speaking just yesterday, even if most of them made no sense. He turned slightly, just enough to pound his fist hard against the wall. It hurt, it was a stupid thing to do, but in that moment it had been all he could do, and almost satisfying. Still, nothing could be as satisfying as the feel of lips against lips, of holding people he cared for close to his chest and...
//Bloody hell, I slept with Jean... And Beka. And Elena.// A beat. //And Didi. Twice.//
He allowed himself to dwell on that fact for a moment more, and then, with a psionic sigh and a shake of his head, he started to get himself ready for class. And if he wound his bandages up a little higher on his face than usual today, and walked with a bit of a self-conscious slouch as though he was trying to just curl away into himself and disappear... What of it?
[Jono kinda needed an aftermath post, and I won't be about in the morning to tack one up, so I stayed up until midnight my time to post this. Yes, I'm insane. Establishy, really, but open if people don't mind slowplay to a massive degree. I'm going to bed now.]
- Room 408, Monday Morning