Jägermeister

"Remember - some monsters are made" Lestan Jäger / 33 / Once was a man / Now a hunter

[effie-ioannidis-blog]

She’s not sure if she’d classify the man as friendly or not; something about how he towers over her with a hardened voice that has her watching her own words, though there’s a ghost of something a bit l i g h t e r, perhaps, that makes Effie thinks twice.

Maybe there would’ve been more of a smile on his mouth in another life.

“Lestan. Gotcha.” She clicks her tongue, trying out the name in her own voice without his heavy accent. “Effie - or, I mean… bebette, whatever that means.”

“Being a part time ghoul doesn’t pay what it used to before the world ended, so part time runner too.” She grins lopsidedly. “Though, well - that really hasn’t been getting much either.”

[lestanjager-blog]

Maybe he would have given her a real smile in another life. Maybe he would have given her a joke. Maybe he would have given her a hard time before dissolving into giggles. Maybe he wouldn’t seem like a broken man in another life.

“Bebette works for you better,” he deadpanned with a nod. It’s like he forgot what a smile was, but he eyes still showed it. There was hope for him yet.

He shrugged, “We’ve ‘it a rough patch.” As if this world was completely normal. This was his sarcasm trying to shine through. “If it makes you feel better, de forest isn’t giving much eider.”

[lestanjager-blog]

[effie-ioannidis-blog]

“’Course… sir?” She tried, wincing slightly at the last word that slips out of her mouth, unsure of how to address the tense man in front of her. “Didn’t mean to scare ya there - bunch of scary things out there, but I promise I’m not one of them. Unless I’m hungry.”

“… Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that - shit, sorry. That joke usually works better when there isn’t a zombie apocalypse going on.”

[lestanjager-blog]

He scoffed at sir, looking a mix between offended and grossed out that he was addressed as sir. “Don’t call me, sir, bebette. Dat just leaves a bad taste in my mout’. Call me Lestan.” 

He raised a brow at her as went on about the joke. “Good to know dat we ‘ave a part time g’oul around dese parts.” It was dry, it was deadpan, but if one looked close enough in his eyes, you’d see a flicker of the trickster he used to be as a child burning away.

[rxtributionist-deactivated20190]

monster vs man; lestan + dan

[rxtributionist-deactivated20190]

“–Beede?” Dan inquired, his brows knitting together in confusion. Initially, he was agitated by the fellow hunter scolding him - Lestan, he recalled - but eventually he had to admit that it made sense; the ex-lawyer simply had next to no information when it came to nature. “I think you are the only one who knows about these things,” he deadpanned, arching a brow at him before he rose to his full height, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder again. “Nobody thinks straight in this world anymore, it seems.”

Daniel sighed and shook his head at the ground as he dusted off his jeans – and then he saw the glint of red from the other’s knife, and he remembered the fight he saw Lestan in before. “What the fuck happened there? Did he try to attack you?” He gestured to where the fight took place before.

Daniel frowned at the body lying there, knowing that he would’ve been just as able to leave behind such bloodshed. The, otherwise, controlled ex-layer often had trouble restraining himself around other people that crossed his path. He still remembered, clear as day, coming back to Max; dead and stolen of his supplies by another survivor. He still remembered how angry he felt. “Excuse my crudity, but I do hope you made him pay. I honestly can’t still a single one of them,” Dan muttered, half to himself, his jaw clenched in disdain as his eyes shifted from the corpse of Lestan himself. He didn’t care in the slightest if Lestan thought him cruel. 

[lestanjager-blog]

“It’s a a Cajun ding, don’t worry about it.” He wasn’t forthcoming with what cajun and creole words meant, that was his little secret that he wasn’t going to part with. 

It occurred to Lestan that it may be beneficial if he had a couple of classes with the hunters about animal conversation and proper hunting techniques so they could preserve the food chain and didn’t deplete their resources. He knew Dan was the leader and wasn’t afraid to bring that up. “Maybe den, I should teach you and the rest of the ‘unters about some animal conversation and considerate ‘unting. De last ding we need is to destroy our food sources.”

“He dought I couldn’t hear him sneaking up on me. I let him dink he ‘ad the upper ‘and.” Lestan regarded the dead body with a strange amount of emptiness, he felt worse killing animals. He was starting to calm down, his accent leveling out and the h’s slowing slipping back into his speech.

Lestan looked at him with a raised brow, watching him curiously. This man hated the vanatores as well. He’s lost someone to them too, Lestan recognized that in his face. “It may cruel or unkind to make dem pay for the sins of a few individuals but it’s a price I’ll make them pay and what does this new world know about kindness?” 

[effie-ioannidis-blog]

“Shit - fuck, sorry I did not mean to do that, oh my god - still working on the whole braking part of the runner thing… my bad.”

[lestanjager-blog]

Lestan did not expect the younger women running into him from behind, which made him jump nearly out of his skin. He had the good sense not to go into defense mode. He turned around, “It’s fine. Just, be careful.”

[lestanjager-blog]

Dress Me Up and Watch Me Die

[oliver-darzi-blog]

The other man slides down on the floor, a safe distance away - there’s something comforting about his easy presence, and there’s the smallest hope in trusting his words despite how the voice whispers otherwise.

Are you really that naive? 

Oliver’s eyes snap open at Lestan’s easy question, his admittance almost - almost - smooth, and Oliver doesn’t miss the slight hesitation, doesn’t miss the smallest hint of discomfort at disclosing something so personal to this stranger curled up on his floor.

And he can’t decide if he’s more surprised or afraid that someone’s pieced it out - he was so much better off known as the drug addict, the afraid, the weak - all the things his phobia made him, but putting a n a m e to it was like putting a weapon in the hands of those who know.

And this is the first time anyone’s given him something like that to hold, and Oliver’s not sure what to do with it - though there’s no denying the smallest inkling of comfort in knowing he wasn’t alone in his world of fear. 

“I mean, it’s - only.. only agoraphobia that the doctors - therapists diagnosed but I - it really isn’t difficult to see the… anxiety too, I guess.” 

He has trouble saying it out loud; he never had to, never had to hear his fears echoed in a room with his own voice, making him feel so much s m a l l e r having admitting them.

“I didn’t think - know how to… how did you make it so far in the - the whole… you seem so collected.”

[lestanjager-blog]

Lestan knew the easiest and fastest way to get someone to trust you was to put your trust in their hands to give them something of use. A name for fears in exchange for a name for fears. In this world of fear, trust was a beautiful snowdrop in the pitfalls of snow.

He nodded, “It’s not uncommon for one thing to beget others. When I had my first breakdown from mine, they were scared that I might be bipolar. Good thing they caught the right thing, huh?” It wasn’t that smooth, there was a time when they thought he was bipolar but the meds made him slow which only made his phobia worst.

With a shrug, Lestan had a simple answer. “It’s just the nature of my phobia. If I’m panicking, then I’m wasting time which makes me panic, but if I can convince my brain that I’m not wasting time, then I can stay calm.”

[lestanjager-blog]

Dress Me Up and Watch Me Die

[trctfcnd]

Relief set in her bones as he revealed that he had bore witness such things. The gentle movement as he walked with her cradled in his arms almost rocked the girl to sleep. The sound of the door being opened pushed her out of the state of nervousness that she seemed to be embedded in. The rest of her house was at war with the way the female presented herself. They had entered the kitchen, painted a warm orange colour, almost like a sunrise, with delicately done brown brick work, which the small redhead had spent painstaking hour upon hour after she had been assigned this house. The counters and furniture was in shades of polished brown oak wood that she had dragged about, which lead to her over exertion and ultimately her being bed ridden for days on end.

The way he carried her, like she was one of the precious pieces of porcelain that had once been locked away in her mother’s antique cupboards. Family heirlooms, things that ought to have been handled with care. Their delicacy amplified. It made her bristle slightly. “We don’t know that. I’m not a pessimist I’m a realist. I simply see the world for what it is right now, and u can tell you by a clear diagnosis that there isn’t much hope.” Pointing in he direction to the arc which lead to the living room the girl would shift slightly in his arms again. Now that he had dropped her off here. Would he go? Stay? What was going to happen next. “The sofa over there” the look of the living room continued the sunrise theme. A muted yellow colour that seemed to have a calming effect on those who entered it. She waited for him to set her down with a quiet awkwardness.

[lestanjager-blog]

Lestan smiled at the decor, slightly. It seemed so homey and welcoming, unlike his where he just kept it clean, though he didn’t spend much time in there. It was really a place to sleep more than anything else. Lestan didn’t really feel like home was a thing meant for him anymore. That was for yester years.

He shrugged. He wasn’t going to argue with her, there really wasn’t much to argue against her but it would be hard for him to abandon hope, it was the only thing he had left. 

With a nod, he moved to the sofa and gently set her down. He wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if he should leave now or stay. “Would you like me to leave or?”

[lestanjager-blog]

Dress Me Up and Watch Me Die

[odeliahayes]

It was her beliefs that really had Odelia being nice to Lestan in the first place. She did show her soft spots sometimes, not often but she did. Her religion would be the one thing she still had during this dead world, it was what her ancestors had. Though, understandably, most of them turned their backs on it. She never blamed anyone for turing their backs against God, but she knew that that was the last sense of normalcy she had. “I-” she frowned, suddenly feeling bashful as she shook her head. “No, I’ll make due. Just… bring whatever you want, don’t risk your life for it.”

She blushed, overwhelmed from the kind gesture. “You’re welcome.”

She was gruff then, her shyness creeping in. No one ever would want to risk their life for her, and she wouldn’t want that either. It was just a kind sentiment. 

“Thank you, I’ll probably see you later.” She would train him most likely, she was so far the only trainer out of the hundred and so people in the town. She already gained the reputation of being the hardass, something that was well, true. She didn’t mess around nor was she nice about what she did. “Hm? What is it?”

[lestanjager-blog]

He nodded, Lestan wasn’t one to stick his neck out that far for other people these days but some habits die hard and if it was for some supplies for another Tribe member? He’d do it. His connection to his faith was his last bit of connection to any family he might be able to find.

He turned to the field, just in case there were any cameras, he doubted if there were if they were on but this was something that Angelica thought and something just told him it’d be better if there was no record anywhere of what he was about to say. 

“Are the tattoos, unsettling to you too?” The way he said unsettling portrayed much more than that word had in it’s meaning. It seemed to hold the weight of how grotesque he thought it was and well, scary it was, especially with someone with the background that Odelia and Lestan shared.

[lestanjager-blog]

Dress Me Up and Watch Me Die

[oliver-darzi-blog]

Oliver quickly scurries into the room, shoulders down and eyes scouring for a place to hide - he settles on a corner despite all the other more - normal - options for an invite in, curling himself up and trying to remind himself to b r e a t h e. 

Eyes closed and head down, pulled in knees and he’s too familiar with this, this smallness that he creates out of himself, retracting himself so much that he’s not sure what else there is to him besides this - this hiding.

He’s well aware of the stranger watching him, and there’s something understanding in his gaze that Oliver isn’t used to - he’s more accustomed to the more common look of confusion, discomfort, disgust. 

“I’m - Oliver. I.. thank you.” He tries for a weak smile, breaths more even now, though there’s no stopping the nerves tapping his fingers with this person in front of him - kind, but what did he really know?

“If you could - could you please… not tell anyone about me - this, I… I’m better now - good and I don’t want…”

The last thing he needs is people using this against him too.

[lestanjager-blog]

Yep, his suspicion was confirmed. Thank god Lestan hadn’t had an anxiety attack from his phobia in a couple of months, though his was a little more easy to manage than Oliver’s. Lestan just had to keep busy.

“No problem, my dude,” Lestan sat down on the floor on the opposite side of the room, a gesture that showed camaraderie but more understanding as he wasn’t too close to the other man. 

At his request, Lestan nodded and made the okay sign with his figures on his right hand. “I got you. Secret’s safe with me.” After a beat, he asked, “So agoraphobia or anxiety? I have anxiety and chronophobia.”

Lestan never did like admitting it but if it helped this guy to know he’s not alone, then he would take one for the team.

[lestanjager-blog]

Dress Me Up and Watch Me Die

[trctfcnd]

“You can sure as hell say that again” She’d frown slightly at the memorable two and a half weeks spent in the mystical place. “This sounds terrible, but do you believe in foresight and witchcraft?” she’d adjust herself in his arms. Of course she wasn’t the lightest person ever, and felt surprise tremor through her as he easily swept the female off her feet. Her red curls would rest around her face, her eyes filled with a slight generousness. This man. Lestan. He radiated trust. She was about to, in her semi pain induced state, about to tell him something that only herself, her mother and of course mama Edolie knew about.

Unlike the man she was not a peaceful creature. The only thing that kept the redhead fuelled was anger, hatred, fear and self loathing. They were two conflicting colours, and they were not made to mix, but here they were. His face held the words he couldn’t speak, whispers of comfort that she met with a smile before pointing him down another corner street. “Whilst I was there, Mama seemed to predict this all.” A frown came across her face, and the crinkles that seemed to have made there home in her forehead revealed themselves, lines formed making the youthful female look older than she was, she always looked older than she really was, so much so people didn’t even attempt to mark her age.

The sky had begun shifting, one erk of it begin the en of the world was the cleaner air. No more factories pumping harmful chemicals into the sky and poisoning the earth. Maybe this was mother natures way of purifying the earth. Her frown deepened. Returning her attention to the man who’s arms she still resided in, “She said that the world was ending, really scary stuff too. There was a rainstorm that lasted about two days, mama made some stew an wrapped me up real warm and told me about the en’ of days.” she remembered the warmth of the room, the way it drew her in, clouded her mind with the smell of perfumes and gravy.Her voice lowered and her eyes followed suite, the narrow aqua slits seemed to glow. “She said we’d have to make a choice, but I don’t know what she meant. She said I was going to do something bad and that would be one of gears that set into motion what happened next. Someone so pure of soul falling….” her hand was on the back door to her small home, and as she stared up at Lestan, eyes wide now and voice hushed, she was scared of her memories. She was more scared of what would come next. 

[lestanjager-blog]

He snorted, “Down in de bayou, you gotta believe in magic. It’s de only way dat place makes sense.” It was true. He himself had had many experiences with the more unexplainable sides of the bayou. Lights leading you deeper into the swamps, weird sounds, of course the witches that live in there.

 It was no problem for him to walk with her in his arms and headed down the paths that led to her home as he listened to her. To be quite honest, Lestan believed her story, that sounded like something that was possible from his home land and the people that inhabited that land. 

Though the “we” was particular, but then again, any signs that witches got from the great beyond never really were that clear. Too much got lost in translation he guess. 

Lestan walked into the house and closed the door behind him. Kira looked terrified in that moment and he suddenly felt a wash of responsibility for her, so small and seemingly fragile in his arms. It made him sick to his stomach and that terrified him, though he didn’t show it. The last person he was responsible for was dead, so he didn’t really have a great track record for that.

“It’ll be fine,” his voice was slightly hoarse, his own voice not sure how to portray tenderness. He cleared his throat, “So where do you want me to put you down?”

[lestanjager-blog]

Dress Me Up and Watch Me Die

[trctfcnd]

She could feel his gaze on her and it made her squirm slightly, she finally knew how it felt for others when she gazed at them with her own unnerving stare. As he spoke she nodded slightly at his words. He spoke the truth, she could’ve been like them. She shuddered at the thought, The venatores. most knew that very few things shook Kira to her very core, but they. They did, and they did it well, all she could think is what would happen if they were to catch her, keep her in some sort of lab, draw her blood, treat her like the lowest of low. A childs e x p e r i m e n t. 

The feel of his hand around her waist, and the last thread of stubbornness left her, body slumped in defeat. His accent was soothing to her ears and she murmmered softly to him. “Lestan, you’re Creole. I went to the bayou once, a woman named mama Edolie. Craziest woman ever, but made the best food. She always called me that. I wonder how mama Lisette is now.” she’d sigh softly and leave her body limp. “Go on then, I’ll guide you so we don’t go wondering abut the streets, we can’t have people seeing their sole nurse being carried around like a wounded animal about to be put down.” One hand instinctively went about his neck, “There’s a back path if we go this way..”

[lestanjager-blog]

Lestan had never really been an angry, wrathful man in his life. He was passionate, he could be sassy, but he was also laid back enough of the time, but the end of the world took it’s toll on him like everything else. Perhaps those monsters pretending to be humans didn’t deserve all his rage, but they did take away Angelica when he thought he finally had her back. Anyway, he thought it was healthier to take it out on them than people who truly didn’t deserve his anger. 

He let out a huff that resembled a laugh. “Dat I am, dat I am.” His eyes softened, “ ‘o knows? De bayou is a mysterious place, many strange and miraculous dings can ‘appen dere.” 

Firming his grip around her waist and sliding an arm under her legs, he picked her up easily. He followed the path that Kira told him to go down, he could understand wanting to keep up appearances. This was a dog eat dog world, if you looked weak to the wrong people, you’d be dead. Lestan wished he had words to fight off those fears, but he really didn’t, and who wanted to hear that bullshit these days anyway?

[rxtributionist-deactivated20190]

monster vs man; lestan + dan

Daniel had one strategy, and one strategy alone; hunt down as much game meat as possible, avoid human contact, and go home – whatever home was, anyway. He didn’t want to run into any of the Venatores, nor did he want to grow close to any other fellow survivors like he did with the kid named Max. He had convinced himself that if he’d never met him, he wouldn’t have to feel the pit guilt carved into his gut every damn day; the constant regret of having left Max behind, only to come back to a  c o r p s e.

     If there was anything Dan hated, it was feeling responsible.

And so the ex-lawyer callously walked the other way as he caught a man fighting somebody else in the distance. Instead, he focused on the deer inching towards the blueberries he situated a few feet away. Pulling back the string of his crossbow, he got down on his knees and narrowed his eyes in concentration, barely moving, barely breathing – and then somebody bellowed for him to stop out of nowhere. Just like that, the deer fled. “Do you know how much fucking time I spent tracking that deer down!?” he whisper-shouted, throwing his crossbow to the ground as he glared at the stranger from over his shoulder. 

[lestanjager-blog]

Unlike many human beings on this planet at this time, Lestan loved running into the the Venatores. He honestly enjoyed that part of his job more than killing the animals. As he saw it, even the ghouls were better than them. It was possible he would never forgive them for what happened to Angelica.

Now this fucker, he came up from behind, thinking he’d have the upper hand on Lestan. However, it should be warned to never try to out hunt a man who’s lived and worked in a forest for 10 years. They will know the wild better than you. As soon as the Venatore pounced, Lestan rolled out of the way, leaving the monster knock himself out of breath. The fight didn’t last long and he had venatore blood soaking his knife in minutes.

His head turned to check up on Daniel, Lestan saw him earlier and wanted to make sure that he wasn’t dealing with his own psychopath. He was fine, but he was about to shoot a pregnant doe and that wasn’t okay. 

He starting running towards him, although to say he “bellowed” would be a complete over statement, it was a bark at most, enough to make Dan stop and the doe run, nothing more. He didn’t want to scare off any other prey that might be around, nor would he want a pack of venatores showing up.

Lestan rolled his eyes at Dan’s words, he was going crazy with how much the other hunters didn’t know about hunter and wildlife. “Yeah, and she was pregnant, you grand beede.” He shook his head, “You would ‘ave been disrespectin’ natural and wastin’ food if you had shot her. You can’t eat the fetus and that would have been another food source or matin’ female for the future you would ‘ave wasted. Jesu’s am I the only one ‘o knows dese things?” His accent coming on stronger know as he was annoyed. 

[lestanjager-blog]

Dress Me Up and Watch Me Die

@kiravalentine

She could feel the relief radiating off his skin. She’d hate for someone to point out if the same happened to her. Long fingers and pale skin, she pushed herself up on rotting bones. “Yeah. The only nurse at the moment on my ward.” She knew why she was the only nurse who worked on that ward. All the death. Watching people slowly die. Once in a while she’d flutter towards the emergency ward too, people didn’t much like that one either. The risk of a hunter half mulled to death was too serious.

A blink of aqua coloured eyes, and she saw one of many people on their death bed. Soon back to reality she took a single rickity step. “You really shouldn’t be glad. At the rate I’ll be going I’ll get home by midnight, covered in sweat” a rueful smile and another step that she almost buckled under. “I don’t even know your name. I’m Kira.” She’d grip onto his shoulder sharp nails digging in. Out of the corner of her eye she’d see hunters leaving through the small gate made for them. “You’re what? A hunter right? Sorry I’m not good at picking things up unless they’re bleeding. ” a bad joke and a choked laugh resonated through the air as a person passed by the two of them.

He nodded, but watched her with intense eyes, his eyes were intense anyway, so dark that they seemed a void, absorbing any light, but it was clear that they were carefully watching her.

“Well, there are worst things I could be doing right now.” Like killing other people or animals, he added in his head. His arm instinctively wrapped around her waist to hold her up. “ ‘m Lestan, Mis’ Kira,” His accent rang out. “Wuh,” his version of Oui, the Creole having it’s unique sound. He smiled at her joke, clearly amused, but laughing, a real laugh, was probably out of the cards for him for a very long time. 

“You know, no ‘ffense, but you are a bit of a peeshwank, I could carry you back.”

[lestanjager-blog]

Dress Me Up and Watch Me Die

[trctfcnd]

She’d chuckle softly to herself. The redhead hadn’t exactly been a girl scout. To be truthful whilst some girls were trying knits, she was climbing lighting poles, or flying across the stage on a harness whilst pretending to be Wendy from Peter pan. Carefree days when she felt, and was, free. To be whomever she wished herself to be. All that the female had ever needed was the stage and the correct words, and then there she was. Off on another adventure. Even as she grew she learnt more survival skills from actors and stage hands than most could teach.

Greatful for the man’s help,but ultimately exhausted. He had quick reflexes. That would be good for a hunter. Kiras thoughts were consumed with survival and nothing else. The more she thought, the harder it was to clear her mind of much else.

Fascinated by the way he seemed to freeze, the hitch in his breath, the dilation of his pupils. How strange. She had obviously said something to set off the mini pani attack. What it was however was a complete and utter mystey to her. Perhaps she’d find out one of these days. Soon hr had calmed, albit jittery, he was calm. His hand was presented to her and she pulled over his words. A spasm passed over her arm and with a mental besting she’d raise her calloused, rougened hand, and place it within is outstretched palm. “I’m sick of seeing the hospital, I’ll be in tomorrow anyway. Bright and early as useual.” A rueful smile as the words escaped her lips. She practically lived within the sterilised white walls teaming with the smell of infection. “I don’t love too far from here, I hope you don’t mind?” She tried to push herself up with as little help from him as possible. The only way to be fixed was for her to do it herself.

[lestanjager-blog]

He was grateful that she didn’t say a word about his panic attack. It wasn’t his favorite thing to talk about at a first meeting or like, ever. He just didn’t like bringing up that he had his brain practically working himself to death. It wasn’t a turn on, that’s for sure.

His fingers curled around her hand firmly, but not unpleasantly. He let her do as much work as she wanted. There was no rush here, but he was there to help her, his senses on over drive, detecting any sign of faltering. “So I take it, you’re a nurse? Really, it’s no big deal. I’m glad I could help.”

[lestanjager-blog]

Dear Angelica,

You know, I still remember the day that I first saw you? It was a week into kindergarten and I was waiting for Ma to come get me when I saw you waiting for your Ma. That warm late summer sun was hitting you just right that it illuminated your skin and hair and gave you this glow that I swore you were some sort of angel. I didn’t know people could be that pretty. I told Ma that day that I met an angel and she thought I was crazy. Kinda ironic that that was my first impression, huh?

I remember meeting you too. I had heard in the past that a boy was suppose to tease and be mean to a girl that I liked, and considering I always thought that was stupid and you punched Joey the second day of class for ruining your barbie, I figured it was safer to do what my dad did for my mom when he came home from trips, bring her flowers. I picked a few flowers for you and with sweaty hands, I introduced myself with those daisies in hand. I remember you wearing them in your hair until they wilted. 

Even to this day when I can’t sleep, I’ll look out the window. Can you believe we learned morse code just so we talk to each other with lights from our bedroom windows across the bayou? I hope that I’ll see a light winking a good night or an “SOS, I’m bored, come over.” You know I’d come for you if you ever did send me that message again. 

When you came back from your mamere’s house, I almost didn’t recognize you, but that feeling of looking at an angel came back to me, though I must admit, the thoughts I was having were less than holy. 

I had the ring in my pocket. I had the pearl engagement ring that you always wanted in my pocket when I came home and I saw you with Joey. I was ready to take you with me, I guess I was six months too late. I threw it into the bayou that night. Pretty stupid huh? I should have tried to get my money back on that, you would have yelled at me for that. I have to say, the thing that bugged me most about that is that he gave you a diamond ring. You never liked diamonds.

I hope it didn’t hurt. I couldn’t live with myself if it hurt. I’m so sorry I didn’t get there in time. I’m so so sorry. I was always late to things. Dates, your dance recitals, classes, everything. Was I late by six minutes or six seconds? I suppose it doesn’t matter. Late is late, and you’re gone. I’m so sorry, Ladybug. I could never apologize enough.

I sincerely hope Heaven’s all it’s cracked up to be. Say hi to Ma and Dad for me. And Mamere, and Rufus, god I miss that dog.

I love you, Ladybug. 

Forever and Always, your June bug, Lestan

[lestanjager-blog]

△ could Angelica love the person you've become and vise versa?

“Well, you see my tiny nervous friend, she’s dead so she’ll never love me again and I’ll never get to see who she’s become so we’ll never know, huh?”

[lestanjager-blog]

What do you hate about yourself? △ (oops)

“About myself, huh? Well, let’s start with that I can’t fucking have a moment of peace to myself because my brain cares more about time than anything else. People hear heart beats, I hear a ticking clock. There was something I cared about more than a clock, someone. But I lost her. I let that ticking clock distract me from what was really important and it was all too late when I tried to save her.

I hate that I still hear her screaming my name for help. So lucky me, I have a ticking clock and her screams to live with on repeat in my head.”