bound for flames
#18
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     Ahren’s eyes remained unfocused, and it took him a minute to register her words. The mechanical motion of the cigarette rising and falling, as his lungs followed suit, was so engrained in his system it was unavoidable. “No,” he said, furrowing his brows together. “I met her before that.” A vague warmth cut across his chest, reminding him of scars buried beneath the fur, beneath the thing he had become. He finished the cigarette, stamped it out in a nearby ashtray, and toyed idly with his necklace. “I went to my mother’s church. Then Inferni.”

     He coughed again, then took a drink. Once again, he drew a cigarette, lit it, and continued. “I had to burn down Damian’s cabin. Kidorah didn’t trust me. So I did that. I think that helped break him, in some way.” Shrugging again, he dropped his head into his right hand and shut his eyes. “The last time I saw him was when he chased me out. They didn’t even tell me he was dead for weeks.” There was not regret in his tone, but he had never understood why it had taken so long for someone to let him know.




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