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Rolling

Linnith smiled as he stopped and glanced into the glass of one of the shops. Though he concealed himself behind a cloak, the glimpse of color from the dress he wore caught his eye until finally he had to stop. Glancing around, he risked a quick peek, smile spreading even more at the way the garment laid against his skin. It was perfect, as if he was made to wear it. Smoothing his hands over the skirts, Linnith moved away from the shop window and back onto the path that would lead him to Gwen and his meeting place.

Since that first day he’d visited her home, and tried on that dress, Linnith had felt something different. He didn’t exactly understand it then and, to be honest, it wasn’t something he fully grasped yet either. However, his desire to dress in dresses and other girl clothes had only grown and stretched. And occasionally he gave into the urges and raided his secret stash he had, thanks to Gwen, and snuck out of his parents’ home and met up with Gwen outside of the city. They would gossip and he would show of his latest sketches and designs to her.

A couple of times Linnith’s father had caught him twirling, in front of a mirror, skirts flying up around him. Neither of those times had ended well for Linnith and he’d left the encounter with a torn dress and bruises where ever his father had deemed to strike him that day. As time went on, Linnith had learned to be more stealthy, either waiting for his parents to be gone or sneaking out with his clothes and donning them elsewhere.

Today was a combination of both. While his parents were out, Linnith had dressed in one of his best outfits and headed out, eager to meet up with Gwen and show her his most recent designs. As lost in thought as he was, Linnith didn’t notice the group of people in front of him until it was too late.

“Oi, watch it, will ya?”

Linnith stumbled backwards, mumbling apologies. As he straightened back up, his hood fell, revealing who he was. Before he even had a chance to snatch it back up he felt fingers wrap around his wrist, stalling his hand.

“Linnith? Is that you?”

The voice was familiar, though he couldn’t place a name. Linnith glanced up, cheeks blushing as he recognized a few of his classmates from school, all a couple of years older than he was.

“It is! What are ya doin’ out here? And what are ya wearin’?” Linnith tried to tug out of the boy’s grip but he was older and, seemingly, stronger than he was. The grip on his wrist tightened and the boy positioned himself so that the rest of the group could see Linnith. “Look it here, he’s got a dress on.” The laughter from the other boys made Linnith’s cheeks flame and he tugged, uselessly against the hold again.

Linnith opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut quickly as he was tugged forward and thrown to the ground. “Whatch ya doin’ wearin’ a dress, hm? Boys aren’t supposed to wear dresses.” Linnith flenched as one of the other boys moved in, tugged at his skirts and threw out an insult he’d heard many times from his father. It was easy to block out his dad’s voice, it was something he’d grown used to doing over the years (as it seemed whatever he did was never good enough for the man).

His classmates, however, were a different story. No matter how hard he clenched his eyes shut and tried to ignore them, Linnith couldn’t quite block out the things they were saying.

“Hey! Listen to me when I’m talkin’ to ya!” Linnth felt the breath leave his lungs as one of the boys’ foot made contact with his chest. White lights danced in his vision as the pain shot out from the contact point and tears started to stream down his cheeks.

“P-please…” His voice cracked, lungs dragging in air and burning. This only seemed to spur them on as they laughed and took more kicks at him — back, chest, stomach and even his face a time or two. Linnith curled up on himself, trying to do his best to protect his body but was already bloody and bruised. He tensed when one of them tore his cloak off took hold of his left wing. “N...nnnhhh…!” Linnith cried out in pain as he both felt and heard the crack of bone in his wing. Blackness filled his vision as he felt the pain start to slip away.

The pain was gone, but so too was Linnith’s ability to feel anything else. It seemed as if he stayed in this state for quite some time, oblivious to all other outside forces. His body had, evidently decided that, instead of going through the pain he’d been feeling, it would just disconnect. Something, though, was fighting against this and Linnith clawed to stay where he was. He didn’t want to wake up — didn’t want to come back to the boys that were attacking him.

Linnith heard another sound, one that he instantly wanted to block out. It wasn’t until he blinked his eyes open that he realized it was his own groans he was hearing. When a shadow drowned out the sun, Linnith shrunk back, curling up onto himself tighter and trying to tuck his wings in close. The pain that shot through his left wing made him see stars and scream out. Clenching his eyes shut, Linnith shook his head. “P-please...don’t hurt me anymore. Just...leave me alone…”

Linnith bristled when the person spoke and moved forward. They weren’t leaving, they weren’t going to leave her be. When the person stooped even closer, and began to take Linnith in his arms, his hands shot out and pushed against the person’s chest. Instantly Linnith was aware of two things — the person who was currently hefting him up was a male and he was decently well built and broad. Linnith’s cheeks flushed as he hissed out a breath when his wing was jostled. With his eyes still clenched shut, he had yet to see the person that was, apparently, rescuing him (though that was still left to be seen). The firm grip the man had on him made Linnith realize that there was no escaping him.

When he realized this, and calmed down, Linnith blinked his eyes open and frowned. “Why’re you...helping me…?”

Linnith sagged in Malikai’s arms, hand finding its way to his face as he closed his eyes again. He still didn’t fully trust the man, even knowing his name and even having assurances that he just wanted to help. There were very few people, in his life, who liked to help him. When he opened his eyes and glanced around, Linnith let out a small sigh. “My name’s Linnith. I…” He debated, mind wondering what the man would say if he found out that Linnith wasn’t really a little girl. Should he correct him or let him continue to let the man think otherwise. Something inside of Linnith warmed at being referred to as a girl and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it. Had he not been in such pain, Linnith likely would have played it up more. For the time being, though, he remained quiet.

Linnith chewed on his lip and averted his gaze as the healer eyed him. Part of him wished he’d never worn the stupid dress in the first place. He winced as the healer worked with his wing, eyes closing and hope fading away when the healer pulled away and told him there wasn’t much else he could do.

“Without some sort of mechanical help, you’ll be lucky to even be able to stretch your wing fully out ever again,” the healer said as he pulled away from Linnith.

Apparently, while he’d been unconscious (and before Malikai had gotten to him), the boy’s that had attacked him had broken the wing in several more spots and even shattered the bone at the main bend.

“I’m not sure what you were doing in that dress.” The man moved away for a moment, fetching something from some drawers close by. “I would suggest you wear the clothes you’re supposed to, from now on. Go on, change. The dress is bloodied and ripped and ruined. Might as well put on some trousers.”

Linnith frowned, eyeing the plain clothes he was handed — simple garbs that he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know their origin. When the healer left, Linnith dressed as quickly, and carefully, as he could and made his way out of the back room. He froze in his tracks, blinking as his eyes narrowed in on the man who had rescued him. “You’re...still here…?”

Linnith flushed, cheeks reddening at the man’s words. “I...it’s not that. I just...I’m surprised, is all. You’re a stranger. Kindness amongst strangers isn’t something I’m used to.” He snorted at his own words but left the thoughts about those he knew to himself. Kindness, in his life, was a rare treat and, when it did happen, Linnith wasn’t sure how to act. He was grateful Malikai had come along when he did. He was almost positive the boys, that attacked him, wouldn’t have stopped had he not. At least not until it was too late.

Linnith tensed slightly at the man’s last question and, for the moment, decided to answer the one about his wing. “The healer couldn’t do much for it. Healed the breaks but…” He sighed and shook his head. “It’ll never be the same and I’ll likely never be able to fully use it again. He said some mechanical workings would help it but…” Linnith shrugged slightly and rubbed his arm. “And...I am a boy…” His gaze darted away at that, not willing, or wanting, to see the look of disgust on Malikai’s face.

Linnith blinked, gaze darting back to Malikai as he spoke. He stared, unbelieving of what he was hearing. Aside from Gwen and the old mage (at the shop he’d visited many times lately), Linnith hadn’t ran into anyone else as accepting about his want to wear dresses. He waved his hand and shook his head. “It’s no problem. I...I don’t mind the mix up.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair and tried to stretch out his injured wing. Wincing, Linnith decided that wasn’t such a hot idea and tucked it back in close to his back. “Will you...walk me back?” If asked, Linnith was still rather worried he’d run into the boys again if he was alone. And that was the last thing he wanted. “If it wasn’t already so late...I’d go ahead and find another place to help me with my wing but…” he said as he gave a small shrug. Huffing, Linnith crossed his arms. In truth, he really didn’t want to go home and have to explain his wing. “My father won’t be happy…”