My life sucks right now but I am still stupid excited to do this thread.
What had happened that night? Conscious, concrete decisions had been made not to dwell on such thoughts, and yet foreign feelings of dread tainted his stomach and pulled down his ears. Memories were cloudy, intertwined with images of smiles and sounds of laughter. He remembered the masks of Samhain, the call they had made once the facade had been cast into Pripyat's bonfire. He remembered the slurring of his co-leader, of the two-toned beauty he'd watched grow from afar and led Ichika proudly beside. He'd been glad to see her loosen up for once, to temporarily forget all that Gideon had left in her mind to regret. Perhaps he had been too glad.
For some time Razekiel had stepped beside Lark that morning, speaking with the stallion on such complicated matters of the heart and mind, but the unresponsive blue roan seemed indifferent to his ramblings on that day in particular. The coyote could not suppress a need to walk and think, and so he did so; his mind remained troubled, and yet for the sake of clarity he lit only a typical cigarette and abandoned his joints for the time being. He did not need happiness — he needed security. Closure.
Dark ears twitched as he heard the gagging sound over the rolling of the waves, and with curiosity he followed the sound. Though he did not smoke it at the time, the man always held several joints of marijuana on his person at any given moment; if it aided in another's sickness, he would be quick to offer it. However, coming upon Nayru was the last of what he expected, and for a moment he troubled himself with the realization that she was both the first and last person he wished to see. Nevertheless, her illness concerned him, and the coyote stepped forward with cautiousness in his step.
"Freedom fighter," he called gently, arms lifted and reaching in concern. "You're ill, love... Oh, you look terrible, man. Come on," he said, reaching for her hand, "let's find you a place to lie down."
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