08-19-2018, 07:10 PM
[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]Loneliness was one hell of a drug, one that Des knew from a personal standpoint. It followed him like a plague wherever he went, whether in literal terms or technical. He had grown up surrounded by it, an orphan with nothing to his name but the fur on his hide and the scars that already marred his body when he was nothing more than a pup trying to find his way around. The groups he joined after that did very little to quench the need for socialization, for they were often nothing more than sorry reminders of his place in life. He had been abused one too many times, until the loneliness stayed with him even among pleasant company. There was no one left for him to trust, no one to open up to. Not even Gabriel had gotten past the first wall barring everyone out of his personal life, let alone anyone else trying to get past the fifty others.
As far as he saw it, he was a lost cause, and the loneliness suited him. He hated it, despised being alone for more than a few seconds as his thoughts started to cascade around him... but he deserved everything coming to him.
It was getting late in the evening, enough so that Des was starting his late patrols around the main island. There was a cigarette pressed tightly in his jaws, whole body tense as if something was about to jump out of the sea and kill him. It wasn't an un-based assumption; that was how he had died just a few days before, but that was less of his concern than everything else was. Hell, he'd gladly take death again, if only to stop feeling everything he thought he had buried underneath miles of fake personality.
It was why he was one of the first ones to spot Nisha, and, more importantly, the first to hear her. The canine's black gaze only seemed to darken as it landed on the feline, and for a split second he wondered if anyone would miss her if her throat got ripped out and her body got thrown into the ocean. He wouldn't. But he didn't act upon those thoughts, whether out of necessity or successfully curbing his instincts he did not know. Still, his gaze was anything but friendly at more than just her attitude, and the glare seemed permanently etched onto his features as he approached.
Any other day, before he had been murdered, he might have entertained her. It would have been much easier to do so when nothing got to him and the numbing ache could be disguised underneath his charming personality and easy going smile. There was always a quip on the end of his tongue, a smile tugging at his lips... now there was nothing but a constant hunger that threatened to eat him if he didn't eat someone first.
"There's a bell for a reason. No need to shout," he gritted out from between a clenched jaw, cigarette slowly fading into nothing and casting his already gaunt features in eerie shadows that did very little to compliment his otherwise roguishly handsome features. He looked about as dead as he felt like, but cared little to change that.
"The trees have no say in this matter," he then addressed her other statement, huffing as he took another drag of the stick and then let it drop into the sea beside them, smoke billowing out in a steady flow before he chose to respond again. "What are you standing there for, then? Welcome to the Typhoon and whatnot," and that was the end of this conversation. He turned around, eager to return to his patrol and away from any semblance of conversation with anyone.
He wondered where the old Des went, the one who would engage in pleasant conversation before someone else approached, who would offer her whatever help he had on hand. He was left behind somewhere, and as much as he tried to will him back... it seemed he wasn't eager to return.
As far as he saw it, he was a lost cause, and the loneliness suited him. He hated it, despised being alone for more than a few seconds as his thoughts started to cascade around him... but he deserved everything coming to him.
It was getting late in the evening, enough so that Des was starting his late patrols around the main island. There was a cigarette pressed tightly in his jaws, whole body tense as if something was about to jump out of the sea and kill him. It wasn't an un-based assumption; that was how he had died just a few days before, but that was less of his concern than everything else was. Hell, he'd gladly take death again, if only to stop feeling everything he thought he had buried underneath miles of fake personality.
It was why he was one of the first ones to spot Nisha, and, more importantly, the first to hear her. The canine's black gaze only seemed to darken as it landed on the feline, and for a split second he wondered if anyone would miss her if her throat got ripped out and her body got thrown into the ocean. He wouldn't. But he didn't act upon those thoughts, whether out of necessity or successfully curbing his instincts he did not know. Still, his gaze was anything but friendly at more than just her attitude, and the glare seemed permanently etched onto his features as he approached.
Any other day, before he had been murdered, he might have entertained her. It would have been much easier to do so when nothing got to him and the numbing ache could be disguised underneath his charming personality and easy going smile. There was always a quip on the end of his tongue, a smile tugging at his lips... now there was nothing but a constant hunger that threatened to eat him if he didn't eat someone first.
"There's a bell for a reason. No need to shout," he gritted out from between a clenched jaw, cigarette slowly fading into nothing and casting his already gaunt features in eerie shadows that did very little to compliment his otherwise roguishly handsome features. He looked about as dead as he felt like, but cared little to change that.
"The trees have no say in this matter," he then addressed her other statement, huffing as he took another drag of the stick and then let it drop into the sea beside them, smoke billowing out in a steady flow before he chose to respond again. "What are you standing there for, then? Welcome to the Typhoon and whatnot," and that was the end of this conversation. He turned around, eager to return to his patrol and away from any semblance of conversation with anyone.
He wondered where the old Des went, the one who would engage in pleasant conversation before someone else approached, who would offer her whatever help he had on hand. He was left behind somewhere, and as much as he tried to will him back... it seemed he wasn't eager to return.
♔ — I want brimstone in my garden