ooc.
It's always interesting when my characters are in a place I used to play soccer.
ic.
Dahmer was finally getting into the swing of things. After weeks of uncertainty clouding his judgement, the male finally felt as though his mind was clear. There were still doubts, by all means. Many of them. But he was finally capable of putting them aside for the time being in order to focus on whatever needed his attention most. It had been about a week since he left Jazper's pack. The male still felt guilty about his mistake, but found he was able to think about it without reopening the wound. He was finally able to realize that his own well being came first – even above offending an alpha. This wasn't about a rank or a fight over who got the bigger room. This was about his survival: both mental and physical. Jazper was able to understand that, and Dahmer was intensely grateful.
Now his days were spent out and about, his time dedicated to actually doing something either than moping about Sherlock and his recent string of bad decisions. Oh, he certainly partook in a great deal of brooding – every day, even. But it no longer immobilized him. He focused his nervous energy on things that needed to be done. And currently the most important task he possessed was finishing his home. The male had found an ideal place to curl up in at night. A few minute's walk from Whisper Beach, Dahmer had found a wonderfully tall tree within Ethereal Eclipse. It towered above the other trees, its canopy stretching wide as though embracing its smaller companions. It leaned against a ridge that rose from the ground behind it, a wall of hard-packed dirt. The trunk was thick and sturdy, great roots snaking from the ground at its based. The tree boasted many strong branches that reached in many different directions – something perfect for a tree house in the future. For now though, Dahmer carved himself a decent den at its base, digging into the ridge behind it. His home's entrance was framed by two thick roots, and decently covered by the secondary growth that flourished at the tree's feet.
He was satisfied with the den for now – it was more than big enough, Dahmer put many hours into perfecting the size and shape of his new home. What he focused on now was a plan for his eventual treehouse. Dahmer preferred his lupine form – he found it easier to focus on his new life without falling back into his old habits on four legs instead of two. But it didn't mean he was never going to shift again – most of the assassin's hobbies involved the use of hands. And by building a tree house, he'd be able embrace his favourite hobby: wood working.
The afternoon found Dahmer a little ways from his den, strolling through the town of Berwick. It had always been a small town, often referred to as 'Berk' by its natives and never boasted a large population. Even now, though many years had passed since the place had been inhabited by humans the place didn't look entirely different. With regards to traffic, anyway. The buildings were worn and broken down, unable to fight off the wilderness' claim for possession. Wood rotted and bricks crumbled. Farm houses lay vacant and forlorn, broken windows offering a glimpse at the darkness within. It was to these building that Dahmer drew his attention. He was on two legs, moving carefully through the debris, his tool belt hanging around his waist. The massive male paused in his steps and selected a board from the ground, eyeing it carefully. His giant hands ran along the length of the wood and he knocked on it in several places. With a slight frown, the male threw aside the board before continuing on. He remained focused on his job, moving along in this fashion – entirely unaware of the other male's presence.
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