cole maitland. (![]() ![]() @ 2012-05-10 07:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | cole maitland, wren forbes |
Who: Cole and Wren.
When: May 8th, immediately after this.
Where: Outside the Ranch.
What: Sharing the bad news.
Rating/Status: TBD/Incomplete.
With the body settled in the backyard, the male beta couldn't help but fold his fingers together uncomfortably as he began the slow trudge back into the Ranch, up the stairs, and in front of Wren's door. Himself and the submissive wolf had never gotten along- Wren really was the epitome of the annoying adolescents who didn't know limits that Cole loathed. Add that with a dollup of self-entitlement, and Cole could be pushed to extreme aggression. Still, the situation at hand called for a separation of personal dislikes and being courteous, and Cole knew better than to be harsh simply because he disliked Wren. Wren was a kid; the probability that this was his first serious death was high, and that was something which made Cole very anxious. After the first or second time, becoming responsive to death was normal. You learned how to cope in ways best suited to you, how to accept that it had happened, and how to push forward without any serious detriment. But the first death. The first death always shattered your world, made you realize that the lifespan of a human was short, and that the path of old age was never guaranteed. For a number of reasons, it was uncomfortable that Cole was the person to do this. It wasn't that he had forgotten what that first death felt like-- but there had been many since. He knew how to cope. And he didn't know whether he was the right person to try to calm Wren down given their personal relationship.
With two knocks, Cole called out, "Wren, I'm coming in, it's important," before letting himself in and closing the door behind him. His fingers went through his hair despite that they had just touched a deceased being, the usual smirk on his face pressed into a hard line. Thankful that Wren was in fact in his room and not baring his neck to yet another vampire, Cole swallowed his thoughts as he leaned against the door. "Wren," Cole began in an extremely calm, collected voice that betrayed his thoughts, "Storm found Darian dead." There was no point in trying to sugar-coat it or beat around the bush, because that would only raise hopes before letting them crash down onto concrete. That approach was worse than just being upfront. It would also prevent Wren from batting Cole out of his room because they didn't get along. His eyes held onto the younger wolf's, waiting for the information to sink and the aftermath of a reason that would follow.