Post by Shadow Clearwater on Jun 21, 2010 14:40:57 GMT -5
Wow. Well, he was back. Shadonious Clearwater had actually bothered to get up from his sorry spot in travels and check up on quite possibly the one place he could refer to comfortably as a 'home' of sorts. Wizarding Madrid had caused him more trials and disgrace than he cared to venture remembering after such a hefty while of being away, but it had, too, allowed him an escape, educated him, and (although it was probably up to much debate) made him a better person. Eventually. Not that it all particularly mattered now... he was, how shall we say, sickened, for lack of a better word. There wasn't a thing wrong with his form physically and honestly, he wouldn't have told anyone he was damaged mentally. Right now, hallucinations, extrovert behaviour and rapid mood-swings -complete with panic attacks- were still running high in his system. Call it a drug or what have you, Shadow didn't know. He didn't care. He just wanted rid of it.
And soon.
Upon his departure, the teen had set about doing many things to try and prove, to himself more than anyone else, that he amongst all people could do something productive. And after a while, he had. Having always been a theatrical type when it came to impacting situations, he'd fallen easily into an acting career and surprisingly was doing rather well. For someone with temper issues and swallowing down a delusion on reality, the income Shadow was recieving was flattering. Of course, he gained a growing distaste for contact and judgement, but that all came from before. People loved him, people hated him, just like always. He was marmite. And he was more than happy to sit by and let someone else ignore him.
Sat outside a closed bar with his own firewhiskey and lime at hand, Shadonious glanced towards the Castille in the distance; fog around its walls. He still suspected it of everything, but he was far too terrified to go up there. Clearwaters were in no way, shape or form, brave men and he was as deep rooted as he could be. Being in Drakborough was bringing everything back, even the nausea and headaches that had plagued him before he left were returning; Shadow was beginning to feel the familiar numb of pain at one side of his head, massaging his temples to try and rid himself from it. That was the good thing about amnesia. The familiarity could spark memories, and though he knew not what had happened to his friends, he knew the answers were near.