Noctisardor Bypass How would it ever get the guy?

dated for 5/21/2024, evening

It was true. Etienne's scent was faded. Anselm wanted to believe Druid was being hyperbolic, but as he rounded the garden they'd built together, and saw it was empty -- all hope withered in his chest.

He sat by the bank while glistening yellow blades of evening sun cut through the trees. Windsong and the chatter of birds marked it as another happy conclusion to a productive day -- but to Anselm, it was anything but.

He gripped the damp soil between his claws, distraught. If Etienne left, it showed he never really knew Anselm at all. Or if he did, he didn't care how that abandonment would rock Anselm to his core. Realizing this caused a chill to seize Anselm's gut, to be so completely disregarded and misunderstood.

No more. Not another fucking person would he let into his circle -- not one other soul. He'd already been left by everyone he'd loved, and now --

-- gone.

He wanted to destroy the garden -- to raze every minute detail that reminded him Etienne had ever been here at all. Yet, as he raised his fist to undo the first delicate row of seedlings, he paused -- and the anger that had been held so tightly in his chest his that eyes stung, dissipated into a dry, choked sob.

Anselm slowly lowered his paws, feeling as that familiar cold ran around his throat like a torc.