there was only so much one person could take before they cracked (sometimes for good).  the son of blackheart was on the verge of one such situations; the last few weeks had been unnerving. well constructed norms (formed over years) had fallen into memory. 

   what he’d been working towards (something better than what he was) was shoved to the very  recesses of his mind. why should he care when no one else did? he was the sum of not just his mistake, but the one that made him as well. 

    suffice to say… he was having a bad month.

  “not really in the mood for company, ” he said, glaring in the other’s general direction. “or anything.”

//  @fenrous

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