aiden shepard is not (ofmazandaran) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-10-24 22:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | persian |
Who: Aiden
What: Drinking, thinking, and an alter switch.
Where: His apartment
When: Recently, not long after this.
Warnings/Rating: Swearing and mentions of death by burning.
That he'd resorted to drinking more often than not these days was not a huge surprise. It wasn't a good idea, and he knew it, and in the past few weeks Nadir had chastised him for it, but - there was no chastisement now. No voice insisting he try for other methods of coping, despite the hint of hypocrisy behind it. It was empty and quiet, and despite how much Aiden would have adored that a month ago, now it just made things hollow.
Sitting on the loft bed with a few unmarked and well-worn books across his legs, he pressed the cool edge of a half-filled glass against his mouth and shut his eyes and tried not to think. That was where the alcohol came in so handy - it made thinking so difficult he didn't even bother to try anymore. But he hadn't reached that point yet. Now he was all thoughts, all dismissive depression and a weird hollowness he didn't like. Ever since that party -
Where he'd stood on the stairs and taunted a crazy woman, let her grab him by clothes he hadn't worn in a decade and burn them both to death, let her do it without even a scream, with only the barest amount of struggle and fighting back before everything started to peel away, even, eventually, the pain -
He'd been ... more tired than usual. Less vitriolic. And then Liam and Sam, and their missing other halves. Nadir hadn't said a word and suddenly there was the fear that he wasn't just being reticent and silent because he was furious with Aiden for committing what was, in the man's mind, one of the ultimate crimes, but because he was gone, altogether.
Had that burning death killed him? It wasn't something Aiden wanted to think about, but the idea kept coming back to him and making him shudder. He threw back the shot, grimaced against the burn, and kicked the books down to the end of the bed to try and curl up in a defensive little ball and sleep before an inevitable hangover set in.
An hour later he was dozing when something scratched at the back of his skull. Unfamiliar and metallic and more like nails on a chalkboard than a voice. He pressed his hands against the back of his neck and grumbled and
This is going to be a problem.
Aiden stared at nothing in the darkness, stunned by a voice he'd never heard before in his life.