10-21-2008, 12:25 AM
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The distemper had not been the first disease to strike his body. That had been madness, warping his brain and pushing him down the rabbit hole. Then it had been alcohol, and he had fallen so deep into that bottle he couldn’t get out. After that had been heroine, and the monkey and the dragon were on his back and in his veins and would be there forever. Those two he could fend off. Those two came back twice as vicious, and bit twice as hard each time. He kept smiling because if he didn’t smile he was afraid his face might crack and his troubles would pour forth like devils from a black mass.
“Que sera, sera,” he said, realizing it was not an answer in truth. “It’s been quiet,” he admitted, and sat next to her. In a practiced motion, he drew a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled. “People are leaving,” he said in the exhale, smoke pouring from his mouth. “I don’t think Esper Hollow is going to make it through the fall.” This was the first time he had spoken the idea aloud. Laurent had left long ago. Poe was a child who flew by the wind at her feet, and like the leaves, would be swept away. Jasper had gotten no better, and secretly, Ahren believed he was dying. A slow, drawn out death, trapped in a fantasy world within his own head. If this persisted, the blonde intended to save his son the only way he knew how. He hoped it would not come to that.
“Have you seen Laruku yet?”
The distemper had not been the first disease to strike his body. That had been madness, warping his brain and pushing him down the rabbit hole. Then it had been alcohol, and he had fallen so deep into that bottle he couldn’t get out. After that had been heroine, and the monkey and the dragon were on his back and in his veins and would be there forever. Those two he could fend off. Those two came back twice as vicious, and bit twice as hard each time. He kept smiling because if he didn’t smile he was afraid his face might crack and his troubles would pour forth like devils from a black mass.
“Que sera, sera,” he said, realizing it was not an answer in truth. “It’s been quiet,” he admitted, and sat next to her. In a practiced motion, he drew a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled. “People are leaving,” he said in the exhale, smoke pouring from his mouth. “I don’t think Esper Hollow is going to make it through the fall.” This was the first time he had spoken the idea aloud. Laurent had left long ago. Poe was a child who flew by the wind at her feet, and like the leaves, would be swept away. Jasper had gotten no better, and secretly, Ahren believed he was dying. A slow, drawn out death, trapped in a fantasy world within his own head. If this persisted, the blonde intended to save his son the only way he knew how. He hoped it would not come to that.
“Have you seen Laruku yet?”