Sex: Male M for Grief, this is for Eclypse
Backdated to 2/29
Backdated to 2/29
The news had hit him like a ton of bricks, and he was...coping. He wouldn't go as far as to say that he was thriving in the pack, but he was pulling his weight where he could. Border patrols mostly. He wasn't himself. He was trying to be, but he just didn't feel in touch with reality. The life he was living felt like a storybook gone wrong. All the pieces were aligned but one major part. His mom. She was dead and he had finally found her home. The guilt of knowing she'd passed alone kept weighing on him, threatening to crush him, but every morning he forced himself to solider on. He'd get up and partake in the same routine. Day in and out. He didn't miss a beat, in fact, his routine was so flawless it didn't take much to notice he was on autopilot. Like clockwork, he'd wake up at the break of dawn, do a border patrol, have a drink by the lake, followed by filling in anywhere he could or another border patrol before lunch. By evening he'd be on another patrol before heading to the lake to watch the sunset.
That was where he found himself now. Staring blankly at the array of colors. There was so much more he should've been doing. He had a role to learn, to earn, and large shoes to fill. Yet he could not bear to miss the last rays of sunlight as they fell beyond the lake's horizon. He hadn't missed one since he'd joined the pack. His rump was pressed firmly to the ground. His tall form poised with ears alert as if waiting for something unknown. Creed studied the sky mindlessly. This was just a part of the surreal life he lived now.
(This post was last modified: Mar 01, 2024, 04:23 PM by Creed.)