Post by Deleted on Mar 28, 2010 7:37:03 GMT -5
(ooc: The thread’s for Kat, but anyone feel free to jump in.)
He had been angry for the longest time. There were days when he felt he could hardly contain it within himself, lashing out at the slightest provocation, unable to care who he had hurt in the process. There were days when he thought it had finally died, mistakenly thinking he could return to the life he had before. But it was always there, lightly pulsing just underneath the surface of his skin, bursting through once he had been lulled into an illusion of normalcy. Eventually, Anil had come to believe that he would never be able to defeat it. The raw emotion had infected him, fusing into the core of his being. And that was why, for the first time in years, he felt absolutely hollow.
His anger was all that was left of him. Anil had allowed it to be a substitute for his motivation and purpose for far longer than he should have. It was inflexible and brittle, a structure that seemed strong and unyielding but turned to dust with the right amount of force applied to the right place. Unexpectedly, Roan had broken it, and the red-haired man came tumbling after the wreckage.
All of his strength was gone. He felt sapped of all energy. It took a ridiculous amount of willpower just to cross the threshold between the neglected office he was currently living in and the outside world, or even something as simple as remembering to eat. It didn’t seem to matter if he locked himself indoors and faded out of existence. No one would know. And the ones who would care were the ones he couldn’t bring himself to face. In fact, there was only one, feathery reason he was outside this morning.
“Listen, Rawiya,” he said irritably to his red-tailed hawk. “If you need to be let out all the time, you might as well stay outside.” The large bird gave a sort of rasping cough in his direction to show her disapproval. While you might not be able to say she had human intelligence, she knew enough that her human counterpart would never get his arse out of the house unless she made a fuss about it, and the red tail was convinced that he would sit inside and mold along with the moth-eaten furniture if he had half the chance. And so, the normally dignified Rawiya made a right nuisance of herself until she’d managed to drag Anil out of the crumbling office of British-Spanish Affairs and force him to come along with her while she hunted. After they arrived at a likely spot in the outskirts of Drakborough, she fixed Anil with a stern glare before taking off, as if saying she fully expected him to still be there when she returned. Fresh air would do him a world of good. 42
He had been angry for the longest time. There were days when he felt he could hardly contain it within himself, lashing out at the slightest provocation, unable to care who he had hurt in the process. There were days when he thought it had finally died, mistakenly thinking he could return to the life he had before. But it was always there, lightly pulsing just underneath the surface of his skin, bursting through once he had been lulled into an illusion of normalcy. Eventually, Anil had come to believe that he would never be able to defeat it. The raw emotion had infected him, fusing into the core of his being. And that was why, for the first time in years, he felt absolutely hollow.
His anger was all that was left of him. Anil had allowed it to be a substitute for his motivation and purpose for far longer than he should have. It was inflexible and brittle, a structure that seemed strong and unyielding but turned to dust with the right amount of force applied to the right place. Unexpectedly, Roan had broken it, and the red-haired man came tumbling after the wreckage.
All of his strength was gone. He felt sapped of all energy. It took a ridiculous amount of willpower just to cross the threshold between the neglected office he was currently living in and the outside world, or even something as simple as remembering to eat. It didn’t seem to matter if he locked himself indoors and faded out of existence. No one would know. And the ones who would care were the ones he couldn’t bring himself to face. In fact, there was only one, feathery reason he was outside this morning.
“Listen, Rawiya,” he said irritably to his red-tailed hawk. “If you need to be let out all the time, you might as well stay outside.” The large bird gave a sort of rasping cough in his direction to show her disapproval. While you might not be able to say she had human intelligence, she knew enough that her human counterpart would never get his arse out of the house unless she made a fuss about it, and the red tail was convinced that he would sit inside and mold along with the moth-eaten furniture if he had half the chance. And so, the normally dignified Rawiya made a right nuisance of herself until she’d managed to drag Anil out of the crumbling office of British-Spanish Affairs and force him to come along with her while she hunted. After they arrived at a likely spot in the outskirts of Drakborough, she fixed Anil with a stern glare before taking off, as if saying she fully expected him to still be there when she returned. Fresh air would do him a world of good. 42