[html] PROZACSthe 29th is fine too. :]
PROZACSTsunami wasn't naive. Perhaps one day in the past he had been, but no longer. That, like so many other things, had come to pass. He knew all along that coming back here was, essentially, facing his demons again -- maybe, in hindsight, that was why he kept doing it. Retracing his steps to dive headfirst into the fire again, just to see if he could take it. It burnt him until he was naked and thrashing -- but to succeed, to survive it, it was a drug like no other. Success wasn't something he knew very well, but trying was. Trying was something he'd never be able to stop doing, because it was akin to breathing, and somewhere in the mess in his head there was strength. A fountain of it -- where the fuck did it come from? Man, he didn't know, he felt like he'd never had.
PROZACSSo he wasn't naive. All that meant was that what he really was, was a complete and utter fucking sadist. It was good to be here, though, quiet and alone, like he really had nothing to worry about, no ex-lovers who had killed his children... the ones he'd never known because he was a bad father, always had been, probably always would be. Just like his own dear old daddy. This was almost painful, but it was something he had asked for, the way the structure he had set up in his head while away was falling apart. Or maybe he had never set anything up. Maybe being away from his problems had just let him forget for a while. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that jazz. Maybe he was the issue here. Hadn't it always been that way?
PROZACSIt felt like he was trying to push a car from the mud on his own, pulling his mind away from his thoughts. Someone was there, but the strong wolven instincts he'd inherited from his ancestors didn't scream of danger or blood. This meant he was relatively safe, before he even looked, and when he did, all he saw was a face to match the scent his nose was drinking in: a coyote puppy, small and grayish, with red eyes. Red eyes. He spoke, and Tsunami smiled. He had always liked puppies. No matter if he'd never been able to admit it. No matter whose they were. Not that he knew this one, of course. my, my. Hello, he one-eyed wolf offered the child, vaguely wishing he'd brought his eyepatch with him. Hell, whatever, kids these days weren't afraid of nothin'. I'm just sitting, thinking. Admiring the ocean. What're you doing?
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