You may not recall calling me
#9
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506
god I'm so tired.

Strel just kept up his look even though he was hurting so strongly inside. All that came to him was that everyone left him. Always left him. It seemed that ever since he left his family, everyone he cared for left or grew distant enough that it was very much like leaving. What was it.. why did this happen to him? His eyes grew a bit dull as he thought about this, about all the people he had started to care for and then they fled from him. Leroy, Rurik, Rikka. More, too many more. There was always far too many. Why did no one seem to want to stay with him? Was he that bad? Did he need to tone himself down? No, he would kill himself before he muffled his own personality from the world. It was something he would never hide from himself or from anyone else. Anything else would be a blatant lie.


Suddenly the redhead let out a laugh, full of angry, bitter emotions. "Come back? Come back? That's certainly more than any of them told me. They all left without a word. At least you have the dignity to tell me to my face that you're going to join the others who left me behind." Strel would never have followed any of them to where they were going, but he never knew to where they headed so even if he wanted to, he could not have followed them. It broke his heart to think he was the constant here. Cours des Miracles would always have their resident tailor, Strelein, to watch from the background as new faces came and went, while he remained. Always present. He had been there longer than almost everyone else. Had he been there longer than Vigilante? He knew that the only one who had been there far longer than him was Haven, but Haven was a founder. And then came Strel. Hah. That did not seem to keep the men and friends around any better.


Noss asked him if his words rang true. Of course not, of course they were nothing but hollow lies. But he would never tell. Or would he. Would it keep Noss there? No, he had to go with his sister to get her back home. And he had to tell his father he did not want to be chief, for whatever reason - he had already forgotten. Strel assumed it was trivial, especially if that opinion helped to fuel his rage. He huffed, crossing his arms across his chest as he set up on his bed, legs crossing beneath him as he gazed to the side, away from Noss. "Of course I do," he said angrily, sticking his nose up and shutting his eyes tight. "I won't miss you at all." Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. His head was aching as the effects of the alcohol slowly filtered out of his body, but he was still intoxicated enough to keep up this path, rather than do what he wanted to do.


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