Over time, Shandom Qi'Vaex began to realize that his infatuation with the beautiful and mad Linquilea was growing to be unhealthy. It was an unpleasant tidbit of information he chose to keep tucked in the back of his mind, but, regardless, it was still there. Day in and day out, thoughts of his obsession began to bother the introspective alabaster male; he did not think that it was healthy, or normal. He kept his words of her to a minimum, having only mentioned his beloved to the strange and wonderful Caprica of Anathema he met in the woods. Even still, the only reason he'd mentioned Lea was because of the striking resemblance between the two. Recalling it gave him stabs of pleasure and pain; Shandom could not decide whether or not it had been worth it.
Still, Linquilea came to Shandom in his dreams. They were always the same: the two of them at the river, sitting in peaceful silence for what seemed like many hours. The day within the dream would wear on until the sun dipped below the jagged Etient mountains, and the male felt true, calming serenity. No words needed to be exchanged, no deep sharing of feelings: it was simply him and his beloved, sharing the end of a wonderful day.
But then she would turn to him, and he would notice that her eyes were deep, ruby red and filled with madness. Her face, once so elegant and proud, was scarred with anger and betrayal that ran thick in her blood. Lips lifted into a snarl, the female would lunge at him before falling through; she could not touch him. Terrified and confused, Linquilea would back away, eyes wide and deep voice echoing You did this to me, Shandom. This is your fault.
Night after night he awoke from this dream, shaking and panting as he could not remember. Somehow he found himself blaming Cours des Miracles for his unhappiness; after all, why else would he be experiencing such sudden misery? It was not fair, nor was it normal; as a loner, he certainly thought about her a lot, but nothing in comparison to how he felt now. Perhaps it was the sloth that had consumed him since he arrived - Shandom had not done much of anything, nor interacted with much of anyone, since arriving in the packlands. He found it too uncomfortable.
And so he came about the decision to wander the halls of the strange Hotel in which most of the pack resided. His steps were short, nervous; in order to maintain a semblance of comfort, Shandom remained in his Lupus form. He was comfortable on four legs - more himself, really. The strange human rooms struck him as borderline idiotic - why would anyone want to live in here? Shandom was doing quite fine with his makeshift den, thank you very much. It was there, underneath the lovely tree, he would stay. Life as a wolf complemented him, as it was the life he was raised to have. This bizarre humanized form would never be his lifestyle. It would never give him any friends, and, if the male were being honest, he missed having friends of his own.
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