Closed: Reid - If Home is Where the Heart is then We're All Just Fucked.
Burning man case closed.
That was it then, Sebastian thought. While he'd been checking sources and there was speculation, he couldn't find anyone to confirm a damn thing until the paper arrived that day. It told him everything he needed to know in careless, unforgiving, black font. He settled the Prophet down and stared at the way the paper played against the mahogany dining table that still had paint streaks from some project his parents had been using to keep Sabrina from getting too worried. That was only days before they'd gone on the run, bare weeks before everyone was gone.
Dead. Murdered. Killed by bloodthirsty werewolves that Sebastian at least identified with on certain nights.
He took a deep breath, one that shook his entire frame - shuddered through his body. Fingers gripping the edge of the table, Sebastian had to actually put in effort to find his feet. The full moon wasn't for over a week, he shouldn't feel this weak already.
Maybe that was just what grief did to a person.
It was a lot, though. Walking through the house - empty and cold save the flames licking higher and higher in the fireplaces, started before the staff left for the night - Sebastian was having more trouble than usual shoving old grief down and keeping fresh wounds from rising up from deep scars. This shouldn't be hitting him like this.
Oliver's murderer - murderers - were properly dealt with. Sebastian hadn't even done anything. He'd come back to make up for one murder, hoping somewhere in the back of his head that it would help make up for the ones he was powerless to stop a decade ago. In the end, he'd ended up staying in a master room that had once belonged to his parents, staring at the bare necessities of a bedroom after everything else was in the attic, and all for what? For nothing.
He hadn't done a damn thing but get caught up with the Dornys and Reid. Old school friend like Cecilia and Daphne. He'd brought everything to the surface for no damn reason. Sebastian didn't like failing and that's what this felt like. Failure, in the worst way.
He needed to get out of this house. Hell, he needed to get out of this whole damn country. Maybe off the continent. South America might be far enough.
Before he knew what was happening, he was tearing through the house, the few possessions he kept thrown into two bags - one of clothes and one of work related gadgets and tools. Sebastian wasn't even going to look back, his usual escape technique. Except when he opened the door, there was someone standing in his way.
That was it then, Sebastian thought. While he'd been checking sources and there was speculation, he couldn't find anyone to confirm a damn thing until the paper arrived that day. It told him everything he needed to know in careless, unforgiving, black font. He settled the Prophet down and stared at the way the paper played against the mahogany dining table that still had paint streaks from some project his parents had been using to keep Sabrina from getting too worried. That was only days before they'd gone on the run, bare weeks before everyone was gone.
Dead. Murdered. Killed by bloodthirsty werewolves that Sebastian at least identified with on certain nights.
He took a deep breath, one that shook his entire frame - shuddered through his body. Fingers gripping the edge of the table, Sebastian had to actually put in effort to find his feet. The full moon wasn't for over a week, he shouldn't feel this weak already.
Maybe that was just what grief did to a person.
It was a lot, though. Walking through the house - empty and cold save the flames licking higher and higher in the fireplaces, started before the staff left for the night - Sebastian was having more trouble than usual shoving old grief down and keeping fresh wounds from rising up from deep scars. This shouldn't be hitting him like this.
Oliver's murderer - murderers - were properly dealt with. Sebastian hadn't even done anything. He'd come back to make up for one murder, hoping somewhere in the back of his head that it would help make up for the ones he was powerless to stop a decade ago. In the end, he'd ended up staying in a master room that had once belonged to his parents, staring at the bare necessities of a bedroom after everything else was in the attic, and all for what? For nothing.
He hadn't done a damn thing but get caught up with the Dornys and Reid. Old school friend like Cecilia and Daphne. He'd brought everything to the surface for no damn reason. Sebastian didn't like failing and that's what this felt like. Failure, in the worst way.
He needed to get out of this house. Hell, he needed to get out of this whole damn country. Maybe off the continent. South America might be far enough.
Before he knew what was happening, he was tearing through the house, the few possessions he kept thrown into two bags - one of clothes and one of work related gadgets and tools. Sebastian wasn't even going to look back, his usual escape technique. Except when he opened the door, there was someone standing in his way.