MarinaNova Asylum

[ It says a lot about his current state of mind that two clueless newcomers shake him so fundamentally, but here he is. The festival last night was an attempt on his side, a clumsy and awkward attempt at assimilating, giving up, giving in but at the end of the night he was only left with a bitter taste in his mouth that no amount of whiskey could wash out. He has tried, with and without Rose, with and without soul (tho more so lately) and it all seem to fall to the same conclusion — there's no place for him here.

There's been too much time wasted locked up in his apartment, saturating the walls with smoke and his dead flesh with alcohol. It doesn't do much anymore, doesn't even blunt the edge and so he finds himself outside, purposeless, pointless, aimlessly letting his feet take him wherever they decide. The steps leading up to the library, as it happens. Fitting, considering where he got his soul forced back in, this fortress of scoobitude. Sitting down heavily, he pulls out a cigarette from his pocket, followed by a disc. A present from the wardens some time back. He hasn't watched it yet, but how much worse can it get?

A lot worse, as it happens. Weren't things better back then? Him and Dru and no one else, the world theirs to burn. Slayer killings and blood and revolution. There was nothing they couldn't do and now there's nothing he can do. They never should've gone to Sunnydale. It's all so clear now. ]

Biggest mistake I ever done...