haunted by the ghost of you [Selene] Feb 6, 2020 22:38:37 GMT -6
Post by Deleted on Feb 6, 2020 22:38:37 GMT -6
Talim didn't know where he was anymore.
Vorilye had told him that he was leaving, and then he'd had the fight with Micah, and he'd simply...fled, after that. Details had become blurry to the Grey male ever since then- Riley might have offered him a place in this new pack that he was forming, and he might not have, but Talim had felt so betrayed over the concept of yet another wolf that he'd considered to be a friend leaving him behind that he'd likely utterly refused the proposal had it actually happened. Whatever the case was, he had fled Vasilios territory long ago, never bothering to look back, so utterly convinced that everyone in the pack now hated him, that he'd hated being there in the first place, that the thoughts that had kept him alive for so long had been right after all- joining a pack brought nothing but misery into his life. If he'd stayed a loner as he had originally intended, he never would have met Nimue, never would have joined Ananke, never would have met all these wolves that he'd let into his life only for them to completely vanish, fracturing whatever fragile trust in other wolves he had managed to build up again after such a long time spent confronting the trauma that his old pack had caused him. He'd been so much happier when he was a loner, surely, without any rules or superiors to tell him what to do and where to go, without letting anyone who came into his life get close enough to see just how utterly broken he was.
Surely he could easily go back to that life. Surely it would be just as easy of an adjustment as it had been before.
But it hadn't been. So wrapped up in his thoughts was Talim, so utterly consumed by bitterness and self-hatred at the thought that something he had done could have driven his former friends away from him, that he had just barely managed to take care of himself in recent months, and it showed in the way his skin was now stretched taut over his bones, in the way that his eyes seemed shrunken in their sockets and always held a hollow look, in the way that his fur was now dull and his limbs now trembled as though they were struggling to hold him upright. But not knowing or simply not caring about the damage that he was causing to himself, the Grey male had continued on, running until he was unable to run any farther. His eyes glazed over and unseeing, delirious from dehydration and a number of other factors, Talim had finally collapsed at the entrance to the Dragon's Mouth some time ago, his legs simply no longer able to support the weight of his deteriorating body. Several times, he had tried to force himself to his feet in a feeble attempt to continue his travels, and every time he had simply flopped back into the dirt like a marionette with its strings cut, as if to further illustrate the futile nature of his current situation.
He was dying. He was dying, and anyone who could have possibly aided him was either miles away from here or already dead.
Oh, gods, he didn't want to die. Or at the very least, he didn't want to die alone, in these lands that were utterly unfamiliar to him, being forgotten no matter how desperately he had tried not to be. How he wished he could go back, now, berate his past self for ever thinking that striking out on his own in his advanced age was a good idea. But now that he could no longer stand, now that he was in a dazed state from how far gone he already was, the only thing that Talim could do was lie there and whine piteously, his body writhing upon the dirt at odd intervals as he furiously tried to delay the inevitable.
Word Count: 667
Other: my poor boy i'm so sorry