private. backdated to july 15th
For two days, he had worked.
He had taken time to wash the demon’s blood from his fur, but he could not rid himself of the smell of smoke. Gabriel’s eyes were hollow and focused ahead. The wounds on his face had finally stopped bleeding. They would scar. This was perhaps appropriate. He had to be reminded of his mistakes. This was the way of things, as it had been since the day he had gone to Scintilla.
In one hand he grasped a still bloody trophy, carrying it tightly. There was purpose in this action, just as there had been purpose in the fire. Gabriel made his way towards the caves and sought his mother’s home. He lingered in the doorway, swaying as he did so, and called for her with a low and wordless noise. It was an odd, child-like thing. He had not made a noise like it since he was a boy.
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