Another heart breaks, I am so much older than I can take, and my affection, well, it comes and goes…
{{Backdated to about 23:00 on December 31, 2009; LOCKED to Suzie.}}
It's wearing on toward midnight, inexorably pulling the world toward a new year and a new decade, and J... is slinking through the Kashtta Tower as a dog, head held low and a long gnawing pressure courting his gut. Maybe it's hyperbole that he's shaken more than he was since an emotion limiter rusted itself out of his head, but maybe it's not.
Absolutely nothing is falling the way he wants it to, and he can't see that anything will. It's one of those rare times when staying silent, seeking neutrality, hurts exactly as much as the prospect of doing anything. Maybe the point is not to stop hurting.
He doesn't know what is.
...he doesn't entirely know what he's doing, except that he needs to say something, and he needs someone to listen, and Suzie seems to be the person to tell it to. Maybe it will mean something.
Maybe.
He stops by her bedroom door and sits for a moment, ears drooping, tail tucked tight against him as he wishes he had biofeedback training for this form. His heart is going in odd syncopations, and his fur won't stay properly down against his skin.
Still. What's ahead can't possibly be worse than what's behind him, unless it is.
He raises one paw and scratches, then goes back to cringing again.
It's wearing on toward midnight, inexorably pulling the world toward a new year and a new decade, and J... is slinking through the Kashtta Tower as a dog, head held low and a long gnawing pressure courting his gut. Maybe it's hyperbole that he's shaken more than he was since an emotion limiter rusted itself out of his head, but maybe it's not.
Absolutely nothing is falling the way he wants it to, and he can't see that anything will. It's one of those rare times when staying silent, seeking neutrality, hurts exactly as much as the prospect of doing anything. Maybe the point is not to stop hurting.
He doesn't know what is.
...he doesn't entirely know what he's doing, except that he needs to say something, and he needs someone to listen, and Suzie seems to be the person to tell it to. Maybe it will mean something.
Maybe.
He stops by her bedroom door and sits for a moment, ears drooping, tail tucked tight against him as he wishes he had biofeedback training for this form. His heart is going in odd syncopations, and his fur won't stay properly down against his skin.
Still. What's ahead can't possibly be worse than what's behind him, unless it is.
He raises one paw and scratches, then goes back to cringing again.