Jade Fern Grove mea maxima culpa

some people thought of life as happy accidents, others as a meticulously planned out event—though by who, opinions differed. aditya fell somewhere in-between the two, or perhaps beyond. . .choices were what were most important. the choices you made determined your existence, for better or for worse. choose differently at any occasion and your life could be dramatically altered.

strange, that he had come here of all places.

gov— no. a packmate of his, a distant relative, had been named govinda. it had ultimately been confusing as all hell, and what right did he have to claim a name that was barely his? so he had returned to the treacherous 'aditya'. . .

and perhaps that was why he stood here tonight.

forgive me, hariji, for i have sinned. and sinned greatly. mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

if only it had ended with the spikes of stockholm's collar digging into his flesh. the sharp smell of coelacanth's blood on the air, mingling with her sweet pelt-scent. his subsequent flight, near-drowning, and then a second chance.

a second chance that he'd promptly squandered. which is probably why he stood here tonight.

the ferns were far from the verdant green they'd been, and still he saw it, her body pressed against his. . .whoever he'd been. saw it as if it were yesterday, and not a lifetime ago. and then felt the weight of his own faults on his heart, and could have wept.

name after name rippled through his mind like a ticker tape—all the apologies he had to make. each time he made amends, subtracted one from the list, he made another error, added one more. would it ever end?

this was his punishment for loving to the point of madness, to obsession. this was his fate for being deewana: crazed with passion.

and this was why he stood here tonight.