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As of late, pain was all that the dark giant could feel. He'd stopped taking his medication, he was eating less, drinking more, the male was seldom even seen without a bottle of the poison drink in one of his massive paws. And where previously would hang a hammer or an ax on the beast builders tool belt, there hung now a single, sharp blade, one that would be there in case the desolate and depressed male ever worked up the courage to end it all, as he had wanted to do in the barn that one night when Lelouch had walked in and stopped him.
But Lux was not simply down in the dumps, he was not simply sad or tired as one would usually feel as the weight of depression dragged them down, no, what the behemoth felt was different. he was alert, he was on the edge, looking over it and prepared to jump at any moment. The slightest disturbance could set the male off and make it so that he could no longer resist the pull of the voices in his head, the ones that told him to do bad to himself, or to lash out and prove to the world that he was in fact the very monster that he had spent so long and tried so hard not to be.
The voices which had, in the past plagued him sporadically during times of struggle, had become incessant and ever loud, and Lux roamed about the territory now, hands shaking, eyes wide and crazed as he fought down the remainder of a bottle of liquor and dropped it amidst the grove of trees that lay flowering just outside of what appeared to be a forgotten temple.