01-30-2020, 11:46 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]It’d been a long while since he had first moved back into his father’s home. He hadn’t intended it to last this long, either. He supposed that he became a tad complacent between now and then. In his defense, a lot had happened.
There’d been his sister, first and foremost. He did not think of her often now, and she was no longer painful to remember. In fact, when she came up, Selby was more than happy to talk about her. She didn’t deserve to be forgotten because she was dead. And though Pastel’s gifts were still wrapped neatly in the bag she left behind, he felt confident in the knowledge that someday they would be opened.
On the subject of death, though...
Leroy’s death had been a strange one. Not painful, necessarily, but it had stung. He knew it was coming. When Leroy moved in, he gave him and Crow their space. Allowed him to spend the time with the person he loved. And he watched him die in the library. Though the two were not close, the memory was still difficult to pull up. And worse than Leroy’s actual death was Crow’s reaction. It hurt to see his father so distraught, but it also enraged him to witness how unwilling he was to try and recover from the blow.
And now Leroy was back. Yay. But what now?
He watched the hound enter and look around, looking tired and worn. He’s looking for Crow, he realized. Leroy flopped down upon a cushion, and Selby sheepishly approached. “Rough day?” he asked conversationally, taking a seat across for him. “I can bring you something if you need.”
There’d been his sister, first and foremost. He did not think of her often now, and she was no longer painful to remember. In fact, when she came up, Selby was more than happy to talk about her. She didn’t deserve to be forgotten because she was dead. And though Pastel’s gifts were still wrapped neatly in the bag she left behind, he felt confident in the knowledge that someday they would be opened.
On the subject of death, though...
Leroy’s death had been a strange one. Not painful, necessarily, but it had stung. He knew it was coming. When Leroy moved in, he gave him and Crow their space. Allowed him to spend the time with the person he loved. And he watched him die in the library. Though the two were not close, the memory was still difficult to pull up. And worse than Leroy’s actual death was Crow’s reaction. It hurt to see his father so distraught, but it also enraged him to witness how unwilling he was to try and recover from the blow.
And now Leroy was back. Yay. But what now?
He watched the hound enter and look around, looking tired and worn. He’s looking for Crow, he realized. Leroy flopped down upon a cushion, and Selby sheepishly approached. “Rough day?” he asked conversationally, taking a seat across for him. “I can bring you something if you need.”