mythopoeics

[After everything that had happened in Zurvan -- the being a part of something far bigger than herself, having family who genuinely cared about her and made her feel worthwhile, and even her interactions with Samael being so loose and unmarred by the horrible decisions of her current life -- it was no shock that Eve was longing for those days to be a reality once again. When she had returned (well, not really, since she apparently hadn't been gone in the first place) it was to the news that her mother had suffered a severe heart attack and needed around the clock care while she recovered.

Unwilling to let anyone else care for the woman who had given birth to and raised her, Eve had put aside her college aspirations to move back home so that her mother could be cared for properly. Despite her best efforts, however, her mother didn't seem to be getting better and had ended up hospitalized once again. To say Eve was wearing herself thin with worry would be putting it mildly.]

If anyone is in much of a mood to pray, or to send out positive thoughts, please spare one for my mother. She hasn't been doing well, but I'm sure this is just a temporary setback. At least I hope so.

[Famine wasn't, and would never be, a dog person. But over the seven (said the vet) years he'd owned Beast, the dog had grown on him. Become something of a huge, furry companion. He was far more attached to the beast of a dog than to the skinny little cat that paraded around the apartment as if she owned it. Beast was both his unfortunate reminder of home and the mark of a new life in New York.

Waiting to hear back from the vet regarding the tests they'd performed on him, Famine was, for the first time in his life, anxious and unwilling to lose his dog. Regardless of his effort to try and lower his cigarette count, he'd blown through half a pack since the vet.

The topic of cancer had come up, and yes, Famine had noticed his dog acting strangely over the past two weeks. It hadn't initially warranted a vet visit, but Beast lethargically dragging himself through the living room had triggered a peculiar thought process in his owner: that his dog might be sick, or dying. And that he didn't want it to happen. Seated on the kitchen floor, the Black Horseman slips two skinny arms around the fluffy beast. He'd hold on for the time being, even though he could comprehend the concept of every living thing having to die someday.

He was just a boy who loved his fucking dog.]