[ It's been a quiet and comfortable evening, insofar as anything might be comfortable in this perpetual night. They have all been on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it simply... never seems to.
He is still hungry. It has been so long since he sated it properly. In shameful moments, he finds himself thinking of Stanford, the head of his body and the taste on his tongue. In the worst moments he finds himself thinking of the ruin of Sayo's body, the messy waste of it, and he jolts with revulsion and a quiet terror at himself. The memories are like open sores in his mind, ones he cannot help but press at.
They sell bottled Darkblood, in some parts of the city. He finds himself standing among those shadowed stalls, halfway to trembling, unable to articulate his fear. Thus far, he has always walked away.
He is catching Ange's scent again, lately. It's— untenable.
It is not something he can discuss with Qrow. ]
Perhaps there is peace to be found in Trench, however flawed it may be... in much the same way as Remnant.
[ Without interference. Without willful malice. The Grimm were a survivable problem, once, no worse than any other natural predator.
But Qrow would not be here in this shape if he did not want to talk about something, and so Ozpin accepts the mug and laces his fingers around its heat. ]
Though I imagine we would do well to remain on our guard.
cw: themes of addiction, mentions of gore
He is still hungry. It has been so long since he sated it properly. In shameful moments, he finds himself thinking of Stanford, the head of his body and the taste on his tongue. In the worst moments he finds himself thinking of the ruin of Sayo's body, the messy waste of it, and he jolts with revulsion and a quiet terror at himself. The memories are like open sores in his mind, ones he cannot help but press at.
They sell bottled Darkblood, in some parts of the city. He finds himself standing among those shadowed stalls, halfway to trembling, unable to articulate his fear. Thus far, he has always walked away.
He is catching Ange's scent again, lately. It's— untenable.
It is not something he can discuss with Qrow. ]
Perhaps there is peace to be found in Trench, however flawed it may be... in much the same way as Remnant.
[ Without interference. Without willful malice. The Grimm were a survivable problem, once, no worse than any other natural predator.
But Qrow would not be here in this shape if he did not want to talk about something, and so Ozpin accepts the mug and laces his fingers around its heat. ]
Though I imagine we would do well to remain on our guard.