Dietre Henrich Abendroth (sonataind) wrote in repose, @ 2018-02-22 09:06:00 |
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Dietre Abendroth expressed no joy upon stepping out the doors of Quiet Home as a free man, nor as he sat in the backseat of the car sent to retrieve him, nor at the moment he arrived at his very own home. There was no welcome party, no shouts of congratulations, no group of smiling friends with a cake or to clap him affectionately on the back. Inside his little house, he simply sat, as alone as he had been in his room at Quiet Home, just as isolated, just as desolate. Nothing had changed but his surroundings. And he would have stayed that way indefinitely, lost and fragile and hurt, had Sieglinde not been delivered as promised. Nilus’ letter had disturbed him greatly, but the sight of her rekindled a spark of life in his dead eyes. That pure and innocent bundle of fur reminded him that a scrap of hope may still be possible, and if not, then he still had something to live for, didn’t he? If there was no one who would devote their life to him, then he’d devote his to her. And didn’t she deserve it for lapping away his tears and keeping him safe from the nighttime shadows that haunted him? If anyone was an angel, it was her. He had very little courage lately, but what he had left was scraped up to send word to Liam about his release and set up a date for him to come tour the little house and meet Sieglinde. Set up a date… Was it? A date? Dietre didn’t know, but he found himself coming home with a bottle of wine and fancy cheese and crackers (because isn’t that what went with wine?) and somehow that made him feel that this would be taken as a date and it was all very frightening and worrisome... but also exciting. Mostly stressful. He was so nervous that he had hurried to the bathroom at least twice, convinced he was about to throw up. And in the end, in the hours before the visit, he could not wait for Liam before getting into the bottle of wine. He had two glasses gone by the time Liam was set to arrive. Anxiety, sorrow, and guilt had ravaged him in the preceding weeks, leaving him haunted eyed, pale and sickly. But he dressed as nicely as he thought appropriate without overdoing it, combed his hair so that no one strand was out of place, and made himself as presentable as possible. Too anxious to do anything but pace (and try not to trip over the puppy) Dietre waited for the sound of Liam’s arrival, wine glass clutched desperately in his hand. |