[ John's quiet agreement smooths the furrow in his brows. He was ready to protect John before they became nigh untouchable; that's not changed, even if they have. The longer he has this—his family, his wolves—the harder it is to imagine it gone.
Funny. He used to be so prepared for loss. Now he can scarcely bear the idea of it. Doesn't want to give it room to breathe and grow and swallow up this life he's built. (Did he build it? Did any of them?) No—of course he had. Where else would it come from?
The stillness hangs like an iron curtain. After a moment, he reaches for his discarded shirt. Restlessness itches at his bones. He wants to ride, forget the thoughts gnawing between his ears. ]
Come on. [ He begins to dress. They could both use some fucking air. ] Before the storm moves in.
[ It's not much of an excuse; this is his forest, weather and all. But that isn't the point. ]
no subject
Funny. He used to be so prepared for loss. Now he can scarcely bear the idea of it. Doesn't want to give it room to breathe and grow and swallow up this life he's built. (Did he build it? Did any of them?) No—of course he had. Where else would it come from?
The stillness hangs like an iron curtain. After a moment, he reaches for his discarded shirt. Restlessness itches at his bones. He wants to ride, forget the thoughts gnawing between his ears. ]
Come on. [ He begins to dress. They could both use some fucking air. ] Before the storm moves in.
[ It's not much of an excuse; this is his forest, weather and all. But that isn't the point. ]