Hoshor Plains Wrap my arms around him and pretend

gonna use this guy instead; letting him meat a buncha folks.

 

The assassin was scouring the entirity of Teekon for a familiar face. In the back of his mind, so many floated around him in a tidal spree of memory, awashing the silent man with such a painful rememberance that he couldn't just ignore it, anymore. Something he had learned was to keep you pain internal, but so many could he had crossed had given him hope to relieve the damnation he cursed himself with. It ate him alive, the black and white of it all. But what swallowed him whole, was the grey.

Utilyzing rationale, he stepped back from himself, mentally. And twisting the problem to a way where he would understand it, he knew internally his shame wouldn't allow him to pick a single face of the many which taunted him, inside. The traitor, he would be. Backstabbing, unworthy. Leaving when the pack needed him most...but what else was he supposed to do? Slade had promised them-

Fury led a path of white-hot shards of ice running through his chest, breath spiking into a single icicle that needed to be held. If he dropped it, he might have blacked out, right then and there. His heart seemed to freeze as well, and all around him, time slowed as he regathered his thoughts.

No; he could not see them. Not Gwen, nor Thistle, Raziel, nor Adair. Ashton might attempt to make him feel better, but he wasn't in the mood for jubilant words and silliness...He had to live with is solitude. And once his mind was made up, calm consumed him, once again. The world began to return to him, and once more the breeze ruffled through the ebonian's thickening pelt. Something he desperately missed was the sea. He had some strange connection with water, and he felt much more at ease with it. 

Memories attempted to drown him again, times he shared along the coast of Stavanger Bay with Thistle and other members of Stavanger, the play times he shared with Raziel on the edge of the lake as they trained each other for the next killing, so many came to him. Nothing held them back, and with no energy left to fight it, he surrendered. 

And the floodgates opened. 

A howl absoutely heartbreaking poured from his lips. Within it were words he never allowed to be spoken, songs he had never given himself the pleasure to speak with the packs, his dismay at the past, the present, and his fear of the future. The agony that Karma had dealt to him, and all of the wishes he had as a child, suppressed, all flooded from the maw of this Void assassin. He cried in the soliloquy, sung his woe and released his internal hell in that perish song. It was terrible, beautiful, calming, and destroying all at once. 

And once it was over, he sat, and silently, waited for the world to unravel him. To cast judgement on him as it usually did. 
Maybe this time another bear would come.
Maybe this time he wouldn't run.
And maybe this time, the Void would have him, for good.