let the poison bleed outta me | Return

[Luciferr]

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The endless Void, The gazing abyss, The bottomless ocean of horror...It coiled itself around your tender heart

ah, speak of the devil, eh? He’d smile at his own joke if it weren’t for the fact his snout is now being hugged tightly from where he’d gently nosed Keona (and thus made a huge target for hugging) and feels briefly overwhelmed - still after all this time, he’s not used to warm receptions no matter how many times it might happen, he hums quietly nudging back into the hug - because he has missed this, missed them all quite terribly even as his grief kept him away (his grief and his rage, he knows - the first is a wretched site, the second is ruinous and he thinks, he thinks he’d rather not frighten them with that again - too often has he acted in rage and watched as those that proclaimed to love him then turn him away - he remembers once, a too small prison and the abandonment, the betrayal and the sky turning to blood)

He smiles though - it’s less that he’d known (though the rumours then confirmed) than the he couldn’t or rather wouldn’t comprehend a Typhoon without Goldie or a typhoon without a Roux, it didn’t seem right - and she has been here through all of it, outside himself to some perhaps, she is one of its foundations no matter the struggle.

The typhoon wouldn’t be the typhoon without Goldie and if Pinch was an almost surrogate son, then Goldie is his surrogate granddaughter by default.

And if he’s honest it wouldn’t be the typhoon without these familiar faces (he doesn’t think he’ll recognise a typhoon without a raptor or a typhoon without the fate clan that he’d watched play about the beaches - though he knows many faces are now missing and that hurts - and he is again reminded of fragile mortality and the sands of time that slip ever quicker)

He chuckles then and agrees ”but of course, my dear” and tries not to choke over the sudden relief that, yes it was true, not everyone is gone, Goldie is here, not everyone he knew and loved is dead and dust - that he hadn’t lost himself in his grief for so long that time had passed so quickly without his knowing.

LUCIFERUS GRIMM

#psychosocial.