08-19-2018, 04:31 AM
[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]In truth, the drugs didn't help much in making him feel alive. The alcohol and cigarettes were also all past their point of working, and as much as Des didn't want to go to any of the heavy stuff, it wasn't too hard to imagine himself doing it. He didn't do it to feel alive, though he didn't quite do it to die either. Right now the vice was there to simply control him... and he needed one hell of a trip to do that when he felt like he could tear even Gabriel's throat out as the hybrid approached. His muscles tensed instinctively, still attentive despite the empty bottle of unnamed alcohol by his side, the blunt that was already done, and the cigarette clamped so tightly in his jaws that it looked like he might as well be eating it.
If this was him at his most relaxed, they were all lucky he wasn't still sober.
But as Gabriel spoke and the dreaded words regarding his health were avoided, Des let the strain out of his shoulders, sheathing claws he hadn't realized he'd unsheathed, and offered him a polite nod in greeting, trying to actively avoid the fact that he had been seconds away from possibly killing him. The sense of guilt, although there, wasn't even as strong as it always was, and that hurt more than anything else. He had left something behind in that dark void, when he had been taken apart and put together back again into the same old form he used to don. He couldn't quite place what it was or why he had lost it, but it wasn't there anymore, and although he acknowledged Gabriel's probable attempts at nudging him away from darker thoughts by actively avoiding everything that could have been related to them, Des couldn't bring himself to indulge in conversation.
He could barely hear his own thoughts over the ones that were pervading his senses, let alone try and push past them to talk casually about things pertaining to anything but his death. It was a tentative point of conversation, but somehow Des found he'd prefer talking about it than trying to avoid it entirely, to ignore it like it never happened. It had happened. He had died, and the fact that it was such a terrible subject to broach only proved his point further that he never should have came back to begin with.
He didn't let any of that show, however, pushing past his own discomfort to offer some semblance of a smile towards Gabriel's statement without actively turning around to look at him, gaze still staring out at where the horizon met the waters, paws still soaking in the same place his makeshift grave had been. "Whatever's out there pulling the strings must be more stoned than I could ever be," he responded, making his best attempt to keep his voice light despite the heaviness he felt and just how much he didn't believe in it. "Shit's goin' to hell," he concluded after a few seconds of silence, proceeding to take another drag of his cigarette (which actively ended it's life) and wasting no time fishing another one out and lighting it with a flick of his tail, embracing the newfound powers his return had gifted him with.
"But you still look as normal as you've ever looked," his words were muffled behind the stick, a few seconds of silence spanning between them once more before a short, gruff laugh left him and he finally spared a glance back at Gabriel, dark gaze briefly returning to it's heterochromic version only to turn pitch black once again. "Take that as you will."
His ears caught the sound of Aita's movements towards them both, flicking backwards both to get a better sense of where they were and out of defense. He knew they were one of the people who healed others in the Typhoon, and knew very well what their job entailed: to make sure he was okay and all that other bullshit. He knew exactly what he was doing, though, and knew exactly how unhealthy it was to his body despite the fact that it was already proven to be able to withstand even death. Upon instinct, he brushed the space on his throat where it had been ripped out, tentative despite the lack of pain, then turned his dark gaze towards the child with the start of a growl already tugging his lips back.
They didn't comment on his health either, though, but he couldn't relax enough to care. Gabriel was different. He wasn't a healer, and they had talked already somewhat enough for Des to get some semblance of his personality. Aita? He knew nothing about her beyond a name and occasionally stumbling across her during his daily activities. She was a wildcard, and he knew nothing about what she wanted... and, more importantly, nothing of how he could stop himself if something went wrong.
He said nothing back, however, hoping she would simply leave him be... and suddenly had half a mind to tell Gabriel off as well.
If this was him at his most relaxed, they were all lucky he wasn't still sober.
But as Gabriel spoke and the dreaded words regarding his health were avoided, Des let the strain out of his shoulders, sheathing claws he hadn't realized he'd unsheathed, and offered him a polite nod in greeting, trying to actively avoid the fact that he had been seconds away from possibly killing him. The sense of guilt, although there, wasn't even as strong as it always was, and that hurt more than anything else. He had left something behind in that dark void, when he had been taken apart and put together back again into the same old form he used to don. He couldn't quite place what it was or why he had lost it, but it wasn't there anymore, and although he acknowledged Gabriel's probable attempts at nudging him away from darker thoughts by actively avoiding everything that could have been related to them, Des couldn't bring himself to indulge in conversation.
He could barely hear his own thoughts over the ones that were pervading his senses, let alone try and push past them to talk casually about things pertaining to anything but his death. It was a tentative point of conversation, but somehow Des found he'd prefer talking about it than trying to avoid it entirely, to ignore it like it never happened. It had happened. He had died, and the fact that it was such a terrible subject to broach only proved his point further that he never should have came back to begin with.
He didn't let any of that show, however, pushing past his own discomfort to offer some semblance of a smile towards Gabriel's statement without actively turning around to look at him, gaze still staring out at where the horizon met the waters, paws still soaking in the same place his makeshift grave had been. "Whatever's out there pulling the strings must be more stoned than I could ever be," he responded, making his best attempt to keep his voice light despite the heaviness he felt and just how much he didn't believe in it. "Shit's goin' to hell," he concluded after a few seconds of silence, proceeding to take another drag of his cigarette (which actively ended it's life) and wasting no time fishing another one out and lighting it with a flick of his tail, embracing the newfound powers his return had gifted him with.
"But you still look as normal as you've ever looked," his words were muffled behind the stick, a few seconds of silence spanning between them once more before a short, gruff laugh left him and he finally spared a glance back at Gabriel, dark gaze briefly returning to it's heterochromic version only to turn pitch black once again. "Take that as you will."
His ears caught the sound of Aita's movements towards them both, flicking backwards both to get a better sense of where they were and out of defense. He knew they were one of the people who healed others in the Typhoon, and knew very well what their job entailed: to make sure he was okay and all that other bullshit. He knew exactly what he was doing, though, and knew exactly how unhealthy it was to his body despite the fact that it was already proven to be able to withstand even death. Upon instinct, he brushed the space on his throat where it had been ripped out, tentative despite the lack of pain, then turned his dark gaze towards the child with the start of a growl already tugging his lips back.
They didn't comment on his health either, though, but he couldn't relax enough to care. Gabriel was different. He wasn't a healer, and they had talked already somewhat enough for Des to get some semblance of his personality. Aita? He knew nothing about her beyond a name and occasionally stumbling across her during his daily activities. She was a wildcard, and he knew nothing about what she wanted... and, more importantly, nothing of how he could stop himself if something went wrong.
He said nothing back, however, hoping she would simply leave him be... and suddenly had half a mind to tell Gabriel off as well.
♔ — I want brimstone in my garden