“My belief tolerance is pretty high.” (George for Deacon)
SENTENCE MEME ⟶ LEGACIES / 1.08
Deacon thought by now he ought to be used to it, but this party was crawling with dead people. It wasn’t just his father or deceased members of his pack either; it was people he had never even met before. At first he thought they were just guests in costume, but then that cold feeling would settle in anytime one of them got near. The one he often got whenever he saw his dead decaying dad. They had such a distinct smell too.
As another one brushes by him sending a shiver up his spine, he starts to back away from the rest of this crowd as a familiar anxious feeling starts clutching his chest, suffocating him. They were everywhere he looked, he couldn’t get the hell away from them all. Coming here had been a mistake. Did anyone else see them too or was it just him?
Taking a deep breath, he makes a beeline for the bar; downing a shot of whatever they were serving in hopes of drowning out this insanity.
Nearly jumping out of his skin as George approached, Deacon places a hand over his heart as he tries to settle his heart rate. “Fuck! Don’t do that.” As he takes another couple of breaths, he looks over to the other wolf, noting the questioning look he was giving him. “What? I’m fine, it’s fine,” he defends as he takes another shot. George didn’t seem entirely convinced. “Look, I’m just having an off night, alright?” An off month was more appropriate. Nothing had been right with him since he came back from the dead. He wasn’t himself anymore, he felt like a damn lunatic half the time. More quietly and to himself, he utters, “don’t think you’d believe me even I told you.”
“My belief tolerance is pretty high.”
Apparently he’d heard that. Looking over at him, there was something in his expression. Like he meant it or something. George had been previously dead too, he remembered. Maybe he could relate. “I’m seeing dead people,” he confides, looking out toward the crowd which was a mix of the living and the dead. It felt insane to say out loud, even though Seph herself had assured him he wasn’t going crazy. It was something about consequences and the mark on his wrist, but he’d never seen so many at one time and in one place. It was usually just people he knew with the occasional stranger, which was horrifying enough. Why was this nightmare sixth sense so active tonight?
“They’re fucking everywhere here. I don’t know what they want from me,” he adds before visibly tensing up as his father makes another appearance. He was more decayed and grotesque each time he saw him. And the scent… it was overwhelming. “Please tell me you see him too.”
