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Better than sorry.
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Why the moon roars No mask.
CLYDE'S POV With a sigh — God, I've been sighing a lot lately — I stopped in front of Baekalis’ room. From what I knew, and from firsthand experience from the one time I went looking for him, Cyrus hadn't slept in his room for a while, and instead kept Miss Baekalis company in her room instead. They usually spent their nights together, and apparently, Cyrus even spent his rut with her. It made me wonder if he was going to get remarried or if this was a fling. Huh… One problem at a time I suppose. I took in one last deep breath just for good measure, exhaling exasperatedly as I gripped the door knob and twisted, pushing the door open so I could enter. It was better late than sorry, I guess. I opened the door to the sight of Cyrus with his shirt half raised, and his mask zipped down, one of his hands holding said mask in a tight grip and pressing into a swollen area on his face, while the other was resting on the side of his torso where another bruise was quickly forming. Ah, so
Why the moon roars Lavender and honey…
STEPHEN'S POV Wallowing in self pity was harder than I thought, and it only took me trying it to wonder how Cyrus did it all the time before Baekalis. Clyde hadn't come back to visit, and admittedly, some part of me was worried about what happened. It wasn't like him to bring someone to the health building and just abandon them. I knew Clyde well enough to know that he went to see Cyrus — be it to talk to him or to scold him for beating me up like this. It wasn't like he did it unjustly or I didn't deserve it afterall, I knew what I was getting into when I walked into his office talking shit like that. The only luck I had was that neither of us had remembered to lock the door, so it was just shut close. I sighed, sipping from the glass of water that the pack doctor had placed on the bedside drawer when I was still asleep. The water eased down my throat, a cool filling blossoming in my chest as it passed by. It was soothing, and it refreshed me just right. Soon enough, the glass wa
Why the moon roars The subtle act of not giving a fuck.
STEPHEN'S POV I let my body soak in the water for a while, pushing my claws out of my cuticles and letting them flick the water before redrawing them, only to repeat the whole process all over again. I did it multiple times, even trying to carry as much water as I could in my hands before eventually they spilled over the edges and returned back to the tub to meet the rest of it. Usually, I wasn't the kind of person to take long showers, or spend more than five minutes in a bath, but I supposed the stress of everything that had been weighing me down finally crashed on me. I was somewhat thankful though, because I didn't have a break down in the middle of doing something important, like maybe when we would finally decide to get rid of Nightshade. Still, the reality of the situation was that if Cyrus and I continued the way we were headed, without communication, then the whole handling Nightshade mission might as well be cancelled. Of course, it would most probably all work out if we
Why the moon roars It stung.
TW: Suicide, self harm, negative thoughts. STEPHEN'S POVI gripped my pillow harder in my hands, my back aching from how long I've been in this position. I was resting against the headboard of my bed. And right now, I realised how uncomfortable and unnecessary the carvings and designs on the headboard are. They were too much, and were very stupid at this moment. My throat hurt from how much I'd been screaming in to the pillow, and my head was aching, but even with all these physical inconveniences and pain, none of them could compare to the feeling on my heart sinking even further down my body as my tears tainted my pillowcase like they never had before in my life. I buried my face further into the pillow, trying to bring up my knees closer to my chest so my knees could prop up the pillow in a better posture that won't have me crying from both my mismanagement of emotions, and from back pains. It didn't work, and the position only seemed to be getting worse, which fueled my tears.
Why the moon roars Saved by the bell.
STEPHEN'S POV By the time I came to consciousness, there was an apparent dull ache on my wrist — both of them. My fingers felt numb, and they struggled to move. I felt them twitch, digging into the linen of the bed I seemed to be on. My nails scratched the fabric irritably, the sound getting drowned out by the insistent beeping that I just noticed. I took in a shallow breath, letting the puff of air put shortly after as I struggled to make my eyes open. My eye lids fluttered pathetically, closing and opening up again rapidly and exposing my eyeballs to short bursts of light. I settled for squinting, as that seemed to be the only action that didn't cause me pain at this moment. My head was pounding, and I was starting to think this headache was a manifestation of a generational curse of some sorts. Jesus, who did I offend? Squinting seemed to help a bit, and soon I was able to open my eyes just enough to take a look around at my surroundings. I was lying down on a bed — but I had al
Why the moon roars About time.
STEPHEN'S POV I hated walking in front of others. It was honestly among the top list of things I hated doing. It wasn't anything personal or complicated, really, I genuinely just preferred walking behind people so I could watch their movements and such. It was all just a matter of being on guard all the time. Clyde was having none of that though, and I had a feeling that it was because he was worried that I would run away if he let me out of his sight for even a split second.He wasn't wrong though, but it wasn't like I would run away the exact second he turned; I would at least wait for a minute or so. Hell, I would plan it all out in my head first before I would actually run away. It wasn't that I was trying to run away from him exactly, I just didn't want to burden him in any way. Knowing him, the second we got back to my room, he would give me “the talk” and then I would be forced to sit through a, at least, three hours long lecture. I knew he would only do it because he meant
Why the moon roars Silencer
DEVINA'S POV “We're good to go, ma'am. Everywhere is clear.”I licked my lips, tightening the hold I had on the gun as I glanced at Denzel and readjusted my mask, determined to finish this quick and efficiently. It was my idea, after all. I opened the car door, getting ready to come down as Denzel did the same. “Good. Everybody start moving.”I adjusted the mask on my face, pulling the hood of my leather jacket up to hide my hair as well. Denzel and I walked step by step, and I tucked my gun between my jeans and my waist. It was uncomfortable there, but I could easily collect it if anything went wrong. Hopefully, nothing did though, because I only had the gun to threaten them, and the last thing I needed was to be forced to pull the trigger just because they were proving to be stubborn and wouldn't listen. Denzel and I made eye contact, and I could tell he gave me a gentle, soft and reassuring smile, although I couldn't really tell because he also had a mask on as well so maybe I
Why the moon roars Tense shot.
DEVINA'S POV I bit my nails, starting from my left thumb as I clenched my teeth on it until it stung. Tearing off the extension from my finger, I spat out the nail and moved on to the next — my middle finger. I wasn't a fan of biting off the nails of my index finger, or my pinky one either. That was gross. I preferred to stick to my thumb, my middle, and my ring finger. Those made the biting more comfortable and didn't make me have to arch my wrist in an odd angle. I was very much aware that biting your nails wasn't exactly the best of habits, neither was getting so frustrated that you'd pull on your hair until you'd accidentally tug quite a few strands off. I wasn't so much of an innate peasant that I didn't know that much. But, ultimately, I had to choose one of the two as a coping mechanism, and I wasn't so sure I wanted to be walking about and parading the streets while the blazing sun would shine on my bald head with an unforgiving heat. That seemed like a special kind of tortu
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