12-05-2019, 05:58 AM
[align=center][div style="width:70%; text-align: justify; padding: 1px; font-family: helvetica; color: #2D0B08;"]Though he couldn't claim that he had found himself in the same situation as the amnesiac, Lemy could sympathize with intruding thoughts and urges following an...incident. Even years later, lifetimes later, Lemy could still recall the white-hot pain and the shrieking cries that followed. Though his exact memories were muddled, that man's recollection oozing into his, Lemy would never forget the sensations. They were with him forever, and there they would be left to fester until someone finally ended his miserable existence.
However, Lemy didn't usually preoccupy himself with those thoughts. They caught up to him whenever he was idle, latching on to his mind, poking and prodding to remind him of his inability to move on. Sleep was out of the question for that reason. Working himself to a coma was a more pleasant alternative than dealing with insomnia and his bitterness.
Lemy heard the sobbing by pure chance, too busy trying not to stumble with his concussion. The symptoms seemed to have abated a tad, by which he meant that he only slurred and mumbled every other ramble, and his vision wasn't too fucked. Though, he still had a raging headache which sorta got worse whenever he spoke. That was...kind of depressing actually. Was this how others felt when he ran his mouth?
The point was, he hadn't expected to hear crying in the middle of the territory. Instead of concern, a thrill ran through his body, sending chills down his spine. His claws unsheathed, flexing in the snow before returning to their cover. Lemy changed course, slinking toward the source of the sobs. As he grew closer, his ears perked at the questioning wail that escaped the unknown individual, excitement growing in his heart. It was simply miserable, pure in ways he hadn't heard before. It was wrong to feel this way in response to someone else's pain, wasn't it? He knew that but who cared? It wasn't as if he could help it anymore.
Finally, he spotted the one behind all the ruckus. A cat, huh? Lemy watched the other man with dead blue eyes, not caring if his surroundings blurred together as his headache worsened. He allowed himself to take in the sight for a few more moments before he approached the feline, making sure to make his pawsteps audible. "Heyaa! You okay? Don't think I've seen ya around before, why are you crying?" Though his words and his tone were concerned, albeit a bit slurred, Lemy was just interested in nosing his way into the stranger's business.
It was after he spoke that the smell of blood hit him in all its coppery glory. How had he not noticed before? (Concussion, his lagging brain offered not-so-helpfully.) His blue eyes trailed to the tom's mouth, gut twisting at the sight of blood marring it. Lemy's thoughts screeched to a halt, all feelings of sick delight evaporating into the air. I can't have anything, can I? He thought as he grinned even wider, tapping his mouth with a paw in a jesting manner. "Ya got a little somethin', mister," he said, punctuating his words with a rather loud giggle that sent his gooey, itty-bitty brain matter sloshing inside his cranium.
However, Lemy didn't usually preoccupy himself with those thoughts. They caught up to him whenever he was idle, latching on to his mind, poking and prodding to remind him of his inability to move on. Sleep was out of the question for that reason. Working himself to a coma was a more pleasant alternative than dealing with insomnia and his bitterness.
Lemy heard the sobbing by pure chance, too busy trying not to stumble with his concussion. The symptoms seemed to have abated a tad, by which he meant that he only slurred and mumbled every other ramble, and his vision wasn't too fucked. Though, he still had a raging headache which sorta got worse whenever he spoke. That was...kind of depressing actually. Was this how others felt when he ran his mouth?
The point was, he hadn't expected to hear crying in the middle of the territory. Instead of concern, a thrill ran through his body, sending chills down his spine. His claws unsheathed, flexing in the snow before returning to their cover. Lemy changed course, slinking toward the source of the sobs. As he grew closer, his ears perked at the questioning wail that escaped the unknown individual, excitement growing in his heart. It was simply miserable, pure in ways he hadn't heard before. It was wrong to feel this way in response to someone else's pain, wasn't it? He knew that but who cared? It wasn't as if he could help it anymore.
Finally, he spotted the one behind all the ruckus. A cat, huh? Lemy watched the other man with dead blue eyes, not caring if his surroundings blurred together as his headache worsened. He allowed himself to take in the sight for a few more moments before he approached the feline, making sure to make his pawsteps audible. "Heyaa! You okay? Don't think I've seen ya around before, why are you crying?" Though his words and his tone were concerned, albeit a bit slurred, Lemy was just interested in nosing his way into the stranger's business.
It was after he spoke that the smell of blood hit him in all its coppery glory. How had he not noticed before? (Concussion, his lagging brain offered not-so-helpfully.) His blue eyes trailed to the tom's mouth, gut twisting at the sight of blood marring it. Lemy's thoughts screeched to a halt, all feelings of sick delight evaporating into the air. I can't have anything, can I? He thought as he grinned even wider, tapping his mouth with a paw in a jesting manner. "Ya got a little somethin', mister," he said, punctuating his words with a rather loud giggle that sent his gooey, itty-bitty brain matter sloshing inside his cranium.