For a time, Carlisle had thought he might have to ride out the entirety of the sandstorm in his garden, trapped within the walls of the shed with only his thoughts for company. Following his conversation with Kate, his personal reflections weren't exactly the best companions, but they never truly had been. After all, it's often his own paranoia and worries that devour him alive from the inside out rather than any legitimate threat from the world around him. He doesn't know how long he sat there on the bed, mired in his beleaguered mind, before Glacius arrived.
His hero, as always.
With the winds still roaring, his glasses pocketed for safety, and his head wrapped for protection, the icy warrior led them back home, so willing to brave the gusts and gales when his partner couldn't even bring himself to step beyond the threshold of his garden cottage. Though Glacius would undoubtedly think nothing of it, Carlisle remained quiet on the walk back -- not just because of the fact he couldn't hardly be heard over the storm, but in silent contemplation of what he should be doing with what time he has left in not only the city, but in the living realm. He had chastised Kate for taking risks, but in turn, he'd so sheltered himself from them that he wasn't truly living.
And if there is one thing he has learned from Glacius, it's that he wants to live. He desperately wants to live, despite the inevitability of his demise in a handful of years, at best.
A shower once home might have removed a lot of the grime, dust, and traces of ink, but Carlisle's thoughts still remain a burden as he steps from the bathroom, his robe wrapped around him, glasses on his face once more. Though his spectacles clear his vision, his mind remains heavy, his troubles still swarming. It's times like these he'd normally drink, but he's taken to other pursuits lately as a distraction, helping him keep his promise of sobriety. He wants to live, he reminds himself again. He should start at home -- or what is his home now. He's likely to never see Bear Den again, but... at times, he's certain that would be all right. It wouldn't be home without his partner.
"Might we talk, Glacius?" he asks as he steps into the den, looking for his friend.
Carlisle Longinmouth [closed]
His hero, as always.
With the winds still roaring, his glasses pocketed for safety, and his head wrapped for protection, the icy warrior led them back home, so willing to brave the gusts and gales when his partner couldn't even bring himself to step beyond the threshold of his garden cottage. Though Glacius would undoubtedly think nothing of it, Carlisle remained quiet on the walk back -- not just because of the fact he couldn't hardly be heard over the storm, but in silent contemplation of what he should be doing with what time he has left in not only the city, but in the living realm. He had chastised Kate for taking risks, but in turn, he'd so sheltered himself from them that he wasn't truly living.
And if there is one thing he has learned from Glacius, it's that he wants to live. He desperately wants to live, despite the inevitability of his demise in a handful of years, at best.
A shower once home might have removed a lot of the grime, dust, and traces of ink, but Carlisle's thoughts still remain a burden as he steps from the bathroom, his robe wrapped around him, glasses on his face once more. Though his spectacles clear his vision, his mind remains heavy, his troubles still swarming. It's times like these he'd normally drink, but he's taken to other pursuits lately as a distraction, helping him keep his promise of sobriety. He wants to live, he reminds himself again. He should start at home -- or what is his home now. He's likely to never see Bear Den again, but... at times, he's certain that would be all right. It wouldn't be home without his partner.
"Might we talk, Glacius?" he asks as he steps into the den, looking for his friend.