It's all good! SoSuWriMo 548
As Haven looked at Anann through his grief clouded eyes, there were flashes, moments, where he felt he was seeing himself and not her. How many times had he been in that very position? Sitting on the floor of some abandoned building with a bottle in his hand, doing his best to drown out the world? His memories raced back to those weeks he had spent in Halifax after he had found out the truth about Conri Church. He had thought his fate was sealed, that it was only a matter of time before the poison of his blood made itself known and he would do those awful things that his sire had done. So, the Aatte had pursued what he had thought was the best option: hide away in the city and drink himself into a constant stupor so he couldn't hurt anyone. In all reality, he had hurt everyone he had tried to protect by doing what he did. The Knight wondered how often Anann had done this to herself. It was not judgment he passed, only a sad understanding of that mindset.
While he found his words and spoke initially, some of that angry fire seemed to flare back up in her. Yet again he found himself uncaring as to whether or not she would come after him or yell at him to leave. Even if she didn't want anyone to see her this way, even if she didn't think she needed anyone, she did. Haven knew, because he had been in the same spot so many times and it had only lead to things he later regretted, the one exception being the night he met Princess, and even then there were things about that he would have changed if he could. His reason for not going home though seemed to reach her and the anger extinguished again. Anatoliy. He knew that name, somehow, but he wasn't in the right state to come up with the answer, and he found he didn't much care. "I told Princess, but I didn't want her to see me like this..." he said, looking off to the side in shame. He was no Knight right now, just some sad man who needed some way, any way, to release the raging emotions inside him.
Suddenly Anann spoke and shoved the bottle towards him. Without thinking, Haven took it, and looked it with a blank expression. Behind his eyes though, a battle raged. So much of him wanted to take a drink, drink the rest of it, so bad. His old demons clawed at his control, but all the memories of the stupid things he had done before because this had been his retreat in his times of sorrow popped up as well. What was he to do? For now, he followed Anann like a ghost as he fought his own internal battle, each side making retreats and advances. The Aatte man was still staring at the tinted glass when he heard the woman speak again. He looked up, finding himself outside, and Anann standing in the middle of a clearing. Confusion set over his features. What did she mean? Ready to do what? "Huh?" he said in a dazed sort of way, the bottle still lamely gripped in his hand.
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