ofsteelehearts:
He couldn’t remember the last time that he was sober. It wasn’t unlike Isaac to attempt finding answers at the bottom of a bottle but this particular bender was nearing catastrophic levels. Everything had changed since the day that he’d found Oliver’s body. He had holed himself up in a tiny closet of an apartment, working only when the bills were due and the rest of the time? Well, he drank. He howled this hollow sounding broken cry on full moons, fighting any other wolf that dared to get too near. He had ventured out for the first time in a few days when the liquor started to run out, eyes kept low so as not to draw any attention to himself. Hard to do when every inch of your arms and legs are covered in ink, but fuck, he just wanted to remain in his solitude. “Watch it,” he muttered as a shoulder collided hard with his. @sanguishqsstarters
RESURRECTION did not beget clarity. inspired no change. brought no peace. if anything , it reshaped him into a more MERCURIAL animal. restless like a RABID dog —– transfixion with SURVIVAL lodged in his heart , but for what ? love , trust , hope , it’d all been BEATEN out of him. SUCCUMBED to the DISEASE of survivorship. but how lonely it was....how HUNGRY he was. the guttural growl of his stomach only a GOSSAMER-THIN guise to slip into town. a wisp compared to the GNAWING need for companionship. to slink off like the THRICE-DAMNED snake he was to find some GULLIBLE little thing willing to lend an ear. someone to play sweet with. someone to play HUMAN with. just for the night , just for the MOMENT , lest he forget what the fire had WROUGHT him into ( bastard child of hell , seething bitch of a hellhound , someone who’d killed before and would kill again ). head down , oliver walked into town. COLLIDED with bodies. listened to inane chatter and HEARTBEATS like he was starved for them ----- a poor man’s GOSPEL..... and regretted it immediately. thoughts died. sense died. only a crippling HURT stood in their place. marrow-deep DESPAIR. acute fear. harrowing loss. he may as well of been back in the pits ----- if he weren’t STILL there. leaden tongue failed him. a sound pained as it was PATHETIC broke free.
“ SORRY. “
