Who: Samandriel, Mitchell, Clint, Natasha When: Monday Afternoon, Week 9 Where: Mitchell's Place Why: Talking about what happened with Carrick. A silent angel is not always a good angel. Warnings: Some strong language, mentions of violence and past dub-con, depression and victim blaming (self)
Three and a half days and Samandriel still hadn't said a word. He'd learned how to be silent early on into his human existence. He couldn't get what happened out of his mind. Guilt was a new experience for him. He didn't like it. It was far worse than shame, though that was definitely present as well. He was more than a bit despondent about things. He'd managed to make some art and then jam a letter into the mailbox angrily, but that fuse burnt itself out quickly. He'd curled himself back up in his bed and refused to get out of it again unless he absolutely had to. Fortunately, when you were eating and drinking as little as possible, the bathroom wasn't entirely a pressing problem.
He kept himself as curled up as tight as possible in his bed like he could spread his wings out and curl them around himself protectively. The closest he got was Mitchell's arms around him, his Master's quiet, pleading voice to please say something or the intense silence that followed. All it did was bring the guilt back up again, rearing its ugly head. He was awful. He was a horrible human being for what he'd allowed to be done. He shouldn't have been so focused on survival. He should have gone down fighting for him and Mitchell instead of giving in. Didn't Mitchell know? He was horrible. The vampire needed to stop trying. He wasn't worth it.