Coding by Sie.
ooc: sorry for the wait D: +3
Cotl felt nothing anymore. The only thing he could ever feel anymore was the hunger for flesh. There was barely any emotion behind the man who had always been blasted but of his mind when he went to do things because he just couldn't handle the thoughts that would come to him when he was sober. He couldn't live with the guilt. The guilt of being a bad father, a bad uncle, a bad everything. He wasn't even good at his job anymore (it wasn't that he wasn't good at it, it was just he had been going through a simple time of extreme artist block and he also was still halfway mourning, as well as the fact that Talitha had been ignoring him for some time now) and Cotl was just busy baking away his braincells in his room everyday, only going out to get some munchies and then to feed Maschine and maybe, just maybe take a ride or something. So within his bout of misery, only his brother had been company, and even then, Marik didn't seem to stay for too long, only because Cotl did get angry about the presence of the man sometimes and would start to throw objects at Marik to get him out of the room.
There was no knock, and Cotl had been in the middle of lighting up the end of the mask to hit it when the door had opened and there was a rust and white figure on the other side of it. Cotl looked at his son with his bi-colored eyes and he had let a devilish smile form on his lips. It really was time for Sascha to try what he had seen his father doing countless times before, and he was almost glad that Sascha had taken the liberty to try and communicate with Cotl. It made Cotl feel slightly less worthless, even though he'd still fee like it for a long time. Hallo Sascha. the man spoke from behind his gas mask before he had twitched and he cleared his throat. Vas up?the man asked the other before he had taken the gas mask from his face and he handed it over to Sascha. Ist time fur you zu get high fur die first times. the man growled devilishly and with a matching grin forming on his face.
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