Posts by RUSSIA ZAROFF

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Flinching as the sound of the rope hit his ears, Alfred closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep, shuddering breath. He swallowed nervously and reached for the other rope, closing his eyes and yanking it in half. The snap seemed quieter this time as he was used to the first one, but all the same, he despised it.

He found the body while on a walk, just laying up against a tree with their paws tied up above the head. Now that sounded strange at first, unless you just knew the sh!t people pulled. They had lacerations everywhere he could see, long and deep and still leaking blood by the time he found them. They weren't that cold, so he assumed it hadn't been long since they'd been tortured. Definitely tortured, bled out through the slices in the skin.

He could see past the blood, turning auburn fur scarlet. Fox. Female. Didn't know who got to her, though. He didn't try to figure it out yet, there was nothing to see here aside from the obvious, blood and body. He got her down at least, sitting next to the body for awhile just looking blank. He seemed to be pretty protective over a corpse, like there was something he wasn't saying. Truth be told, there was something he wasn't saying.

He knew her. Knew her for years.

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[fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 400px; font-size: 8pt;text-align:justify; line-height: 120%][fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 75px; height: 75px; float: left;][/fancypost] Right in the noggin. And he had to get the girl, too, huh? Then again, Nighttales did have a pretty good point, even if he wasn't one to really root for veggie queen to get nailed by a snowball in the head. Regardless, it was funny as f#ck and as long as she wasn't hurt then it was all okay. And thank god Nighty was a chill guy, too, or this would have been awful.

Strolling up with his wings loosely against his sides, Alfred snickered in an attempt to hold back laughter at the scenario presented in front of him. Spec, Nighty, and Bruce, who he hadn't seen in a while now that he thought of it. He'd been meaning to pay a visit and like hang with the other ScarClanners while he blew off some steam but just never got around to it. He really didn't have a reason why he found the dude so entertaining, but it was better than fighting with him. Blast to the past when he was in RiverClan, yo. "So the winter pranks have begun, huh? I gotta get on this."

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[fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 400px; font-size: 8pt;text-align:justify; line-height: 120%][fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 75px; height: 75px; float: left;][/fancypost] He heard the two show up, he wasn't that out of it, at least. The leaves along the ground rustled, and his white ears perked up to the sound, standing straight. One twitched as his clanmates came closer, but not once did he bother turning to look at them. He was too busy staring off into space, looking as if he was staring intently at something when in reality his eyes were blank and focused on nothing.

In fact, he was incredibly detached. The arrival of Nighttales and Fiore did somewhat snap him out of his daze, and he finally glanced over to the both of them with blank blue eyes. No words were exchanged, and instead he stood and began to pull dirt away to dig a lonesome grave. Right then and there. The blood that hadn't dried was crawling over to him, slowly seeping into the white fur of his paws. It mixed with the dirt and made a small patch of mud as he pulled more earth aside. Still, no words.

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just gonna bump this super q u i c k

[fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 400px; font-size: 8pt;text-align:justify; line-height: 120%][fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 75px; height: 75px; float: left;][/fancypost] Okay, so no flower boops. Got it. He'd have to remember that for the future.

“First animals, now plants. Al' I swear t' god you're gunna bring me a book and tell me to read it because it feels sad n' neglected.”

He'd paused a bit after that before laughing quietly, realizing how true that was. He probably would, huh? To be fair, he did have a reason. Now he knew a lot of people would probably look at him and laugh, or flat out call him pathetic, so he didn't say. He didn't even think he should tell Cassius, mostly because he was nervous about the possibility of country boy to do that exact thing. He'd just say "here's a flower, I got it for you". It worked and no other questions about it had to be asked. The end.

He went quiet for a bit again, until Cassius asked about the temperature outside, and mentioned how cold he was. He let out a soft sigh. "Colder." He managed to say, shrugging. That was about it as far as his answer went. He didn't care for the cold and he was in a warm place now, and obviously that felt way better than trekking around in icy f#cking slush and mud.

But for all his b!tchy complaining, he knew very well this was nothing he couldn't handle. People here wondered how he could run around with nothing but a t-shirt and jeans, but there was a simple answer for that. Get thrown into Germany or France during the winter with a torn up uniform, slick with water and blood, and then see if a little snow in f#cking ColouredClan did much damage. In fact, that was one of the reasons he hated the snow. All he ever saw was bad things, unless he was surrounded by Christmas lights or some sh!t. Snow by itself made him sick.

He rubbed their back with one hand as they rested all pressed up against him, finding himself staring off at nothing again. He'd been doing that an awful lot as of late, just staring and thinking about the worst things imaginable. Even in a situation like this, where he despised that. It wasn't like he was trying to block Cass out or anything, he just...he had a lot on his mind and couldn't control when it decided to show.

[color=#FCDC3B]"Hey, Cass..." He swallowed nervously, snapping out of his concerning silence and trying to think of how to word his thoughts. It was rather strange, but he'd gotten used to his thoughts being brushed off as strange or psychotic. But this was Cassius, so he really didn't know. The problem with confiding in him was that if Cassius did what he convinced himself he was so used to hearing, it would hurt even more.

He played with their hair a bit, just to keep himself calm enough to actually say what was on his mind for once. It seemed easy, but when you kept everything in your head for years...well, it became difficult to actually say anything. [color=#FCDC3B]"Have you ever felt like all this just....just wasn't real?"

There was a big world out there, he could feel it. And yet, he wasn't there in it. Was he dead? Of course, he knew it. But he didn't feel dead. Dead meant no hope left for him, like he'd come to accept that and live this life as his own. He felt a stir of hope that he would one day snap out of it. He shouldn't have felt that. He shouldn't have felt hope. This wasn't right, he felt out of place. And he always had been out of place, from the first day of breathing air again since the war.

He brought up one thought with Cass, and dismissed the rest.

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/ crashes in

hey who wants drunk gay losers

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IC AWARDS[HR]
Overall favorite character:
Favorite new character:
Character with the most potential:
Favorite HP/SHP:
Most developed character:
Favorite male character:
Favorite Female character:
Favorite nonbinary character:
Favorite original character: (A brain child)
Favorite spinoff character: (A character based on a pre-existing one.)

Best couple:
Best crackship:
NOTP:

most likely to hoard all the bows:
most likely to light festive candles everywhere:
most likely to already be planning a new year's party:
most likely to cut their hand putting up christmas lights:
most likely to cry when they get a good gift:
most likely to shove snow down people's clothes:
Loser who sits in the corner:
Loser who's the life of the party:
Most likely summoning Krampus:
Most likely to re-gift everything:
Most likely to die on Black Friday:
Most likely to dress in slutty attire for the holidays:
Least festive asshole:
most festive asshole:
Most likely to try to celebrate every winter holiday:
Most likely to celebrate the death of their enemies:
Biggest christmas asshole: Permafrost

OOC AWARDS[HR]
Most museful:
Most friendly:
Most welcoming:
Most charismatic:
most active:
Best meme:
Worst meme:

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yO WHO WANTS SHIPS WITH THIS BOI
this blessing this babe this sexy b e a s t

oml
all this gay fuels the soul

Al ??

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All he felt was pain.

The frost under his paws was almost painful, but he grit his teeth and put up with it as he walked along the frozen terrain. He told himself it could be worse, and that he had no right to complain. He didn't complain. At least not out in the open.

His vision was getting blurry. Pain clawed at his beaten and worn out body with each step he took, but he wasn't sure where he was headed. A sigh escaped him, a small and faint flame emerging out from him as if he was some sort of dragon. It would have been pretty cool, had it not been for the circumstance. That was, essentially, warmth leaving his body.

More pain. His skin felt warmth. He could almost see home from here, and he could go find the medical supplies. Something more than herbs and all that. Hardcore sh!t, human medical nonsense. He didn't really know if he could trust plants, it just wasn't what he was raised to trust. He grew up with other medical supplies, it was nothing against the medics.

Pain. Agonizing pain. He waited for his body to go numb, then maybe he would have a break. It felt like his skin was splitting, it felt like his body was unraveling, falling apart. Maybe it was. Maybe this was some big thing and he was being told it was time to f#cking die and stop wasting so much oxygen.

More blood. More pain.

His vision was blurring real f#ckin' bad. His head was spinning from it all, and he couldn't think straight. F#ck, f#ck, F#CK-

Into the frost he fell, swearing and kicking up the light dusting of snow on the ground from frustration of not being able to move. The enraged actions quickly tired him out, however, and in due time he stopped thrashing and instead went limp in a slushy puddle of his own blood and frost.

He wounds had reopened, exposing the marks of a feral f#cking animal ColouredClan just had to keep. At that thought, his rage returned to him and he flipped over onto his stomach and drove his bloody paw into the ground with a pained and agonized cry of rage. In doing this, his wounds completely tore and snapped, blood gushed out of his abdomen and he let out a strangled sound before quiet cursing left his jaws.

The worst part wasn't even the blood. It was that part of his guts had literally forced their way out of the wounds on his stomach.

His head hit the ground, the only sound out of him being heavy breathing, and the occasional spitting up blood. His body shook and trembled as it rapidly went cold, and in one last desperate attempt to get help, he began to pull his body along the ground. It didn't do much other than tire him out and leave a long red streak in the snow.

"They won't help you."

He'd lived by those words for years, they always seemed true. No one came to your aid, you had to do sh!t yourself. He'd only seen two instances in his lifetime where that was wrong, and that was in war and with Cassius. The only problem with those two were that he couldn't always expect Cassius to be there at that moment, and war killed you if you were unlucky.

But he still hoped and prayed for someone to find him, even if he wasn't a religious man. He just didn't want to die.

So he pulled himself along, everything from his shoulders down soaked in his own blood, what part of his guts that were showing being dragged along with him.

[ YOU DON'T HAVE TO MATCH MUSE! i don't even know where this sh!t came from, lmao ]
[ SUMMARY: Al's wounds reopened and he's bleeding everywhere and trying to drag his body home, and the boi's intestines are trying to fall out ]

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He heard Tara's voice. It was a bit fuzzy, everything blurring together more and more as he lost more blood by the second. It was a wonder how he hadn't passed out yet, but then again, he was an incredibly strong and stubborn creature. That should have been proven by this point, even with all his pitiful crawling and guts upon the snow. Was it pitiful or disturbing? Maybe both.

And then there was someone else. He normally would have realized it was C.C., but with the lack of blood in his system and his body going into complete shock, he didn't recognize him. All he heard were foggy words about flipping him onto his back, which sent a twinge of fear through his mind. He didn't want to be touched, are you kidding?

He just shook his head, grasping at the bloody mud beneath him. "No...don't...touch me." He had to force the words out, rapidly losing energy. He was shaking violently, and when he tried to move again, he fully collapsed. He couldn't do this.

He flipped to his side, trying to keep his insides in with a paw, holding them fast. The cold breeze tugged at his fur, chilling the blood soaking his body and making him that much colder. He just wanted to go home. That was it. He'd just wanted to go home and lay down, rest and get back lost energy and warmth. All he wanted was sleep and relaxation and his boyfriend. But no, here he was, freezing and most likely dying.

Tara mentioned something about Fright, and it took a few moments but he pieced it together that Frightfur was there to heal him. Right. But he still despised the idea of anyone touching him in such a gory, vulrable state. He didn't want Fright, he didn't want Pixel, he didn't want anyone in the damn medical field. He knew who he wanted to see, but part of him also didn't want to traumatize him like that. And she was...crying? Looked like it. He just laughed weakly, blood spilling down his jaws. [color=#FCDC3B]"It's g-gonna be okay, I swore off dying. B-Besides, I got too much to lose." He had his position, his friends, Mark and Cass-

Cass.

Letting out a rather loud and pained groan, spitting blood into the dirt, Alfred held onto what was trying to fall out of him and pushed the f#ckers back in.

It wasn't as if he had lost a whole lot of his guts, it was only a little bit that he could put in place well enough. The issue was keeping his skin shut well enough to keep them from falling back out. Tears were streaming down his face, stinging his cheeks from the cold.

[color=#FCDC3B]"T-Tara...Tara, where's Cassius...?" He glanced over to the bodyguard, eyes blank and glassing over at this point. His shallow breathing was evident with the rapid movement of his side, but it was starting to slow down as he stopped struggling for good this time. He wasn't trying to die here in the cold, splashing around in a slushy puddle of his own blood.

And, uh, little C.C. [color=#FCDC3B]"God, I hope it does." For f#ck's sake, organs were meant to be inside, not outside. He hoped there wouldn't be more complications in the future, should he survive this. No, he had to. He had sh!t to look forward to in the future now. He had a future, and by god, he wasn't about to let it slip away because of a f#cking feral animal he used to know.

Once upon a time, he didn't see the point in surviving. Now he did, and sh!t was always just around the corner. Funny how that worked.

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[fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 400px; font-size: 8pt;text-align:justify; line-height: 120%][fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 75px; height: 75px; float: left;][/fancypost] Water and soap over hydrogen peroxide? Okay, he knew that he viewed the medical supplies and remedies needed a little bit differently than most people here, but come on! He'd been using that sh!t for as long as he could remember and it worked fine. Even for the guy who got injured almost on a daily basis, he'd never gotten an infection once.

But hey, he wasn't the doctor here. Okay, okay, he'd step back and let Fright do his thing. Pixel wasn't even in the ballpark here, with all her natural remedies and whatnot. He knew jack sh!t about that, so he'd let her do her thing. He wouldn't put trust into what he knew nothing about, but he wouldn't say anything about it.

He watched the thing with the mouse go down, and looked back up with a vaguely confused look. Not because he didn't know what was going on, but just...other reasons. "Hey, Fright? Did you disinfect the water?" Water on a burn was good. See? Fright was a good medic. He just had one little thought on his mind, something that had been run through his mind while in the military. It was seemingly insignificant, but hey, his mind worked how his mind worked.

A mouse ran past his paw, and he lifted his paw up to let them run. The first thought he had was 'food' instead of 'medical demonstration', and he came to the realization that he had been living with snakes for far too long. Not that he was really complaining. They were pretty chill, though the damn bush viper could be a brat sometimes, as pretty as she was.

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Quote

Fiore sets an explosive off, killing Alfred, Cassius, and Frightfur.

well ain't that some sh!t

also Rick survived why am i not surprised

[fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 400px; font-size: 8pt;text-align:justify; line-height: 120%][fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 75px; height: 75px; float: left;][/fancypost] For a while there he thought maybe he'd said something wrong and felt a twinge of guilt. He didn't know why that was the first conclusion he came up with, but it wasn't all that surprising for him. Maybe it would have nice to stop his habit of putting himself down all the time, but it was a difficult one to break.

Hell, he had a lot of habits to break. One he guessed had already been broken, definitely the worst one. That was progress, right? It didn't look like he'd made any progress with himself, but believe him, he really had. Now that he thought about it...he didn't think Cass ever saw him at his worst stage in life, which was good. He wasn't...wasn't going back to that. At least, he hoped he didn't, or all his improvement was going right out the window. That, and he'd hate for Cassius to see the f#cking train wreck he used to be.

Then again, when he thought about, he hadn't...really fully improved. He just took his violent behavior on himself and passed it on to other people. F#ck. He was never going to get better, was he?

He wasn't sure what exactly, but he'd been waiting for something to happen when Cass leaned in to kiss him. He was a bit surprised at first, if anything, but it wasn't like he wasn't used to it or something. And he wasn't complaining here. Kisses were good, best with Cassius. And while it was brief at first, real feather light, it got better the second and third time. He would have gotten into it too, but then Cassius pulled away to head to the window. He wasn't one to whine, but instead just exhaled with an edge of frustration. He didn't know why frustration of all things, he blamed impulse and just getting the kiss cut off so suddenly.

“...Real as anything else I s'pose. If it was fake, I can say it's had me fooled.”

Cass was staring at the window, one hand on it for whatever reason. Alfred didn't question it, it was best not to. Cassius had sh!t on his mind, and it wasn't his place to try and assume he knew what Cass was thinking. People probably tried to do that already, it wasn't uncommon. But he wasn't going to do that.

Shrugging his shoulders at the reply, Alfred blew his bangs out of his face and leaned back a bit against the arm of the couch. While Cass looked like he was contemplating life, Alfred unwrapped the bandages on his arm and set them aside with his ditched clothes. The scarred skin was visible to the world again, as it was every time he settled down for the day at home. He never thought he'd grow so comfortable with anyone seeing them, but here he was.

He sat back up again when they walked over, leaning up against him and hopefully staying there. Hell, he didn't want country boy getting up again, even if that sounded pathetic. F#ck you, he had his reasons and they were valid. [color=#FCDC3B]"Hey, forget it. It's no big deal." He pushed his thoughts to the side, kissing Cassius's forehead and wrapping one arm around their waist. Look, he hadn't meant to cause any sh!t, it was just a thought he'd thrown out there. He still thought he was crazy for it.

Shifting the slightest bit, Alfred wrapped his large wings around Cassius all of a sudden, a dorky smile appearing on his face. He placed a trail of light kisses up their neck to their cheek, getting both arms wrapped around their waist at the same time. [color=#FCDC3B]"Gotcha."

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Approaching the group gathered around the demon, Alfred rubbed his neck with one paw and clenched his jaw. He hadn't forgotten that. Not once. And here was Pixel, little helpless cloud mom, trying to get this guy into therapy. Oh, how innocent she was. He almost wanted to laugh and then tell her she was the f#cking crazy one after all. But no, he didn't do that. That would have been too harsh, she didn't know. After all, he wasn't the one she was, ahem, stalking, in his opinion.

Cough, cough.

"Been awhile, Cipher. You ugly yellow ass motherf#cker." Taking his paw from his throat as he laid blue eyes on the demon, Alfred spat to the side where no one resided and cracked his neck. How was he even standing to look at the douche? No idea, but he felt like puking seeing him again. Could he do much? He could join in the others in trying to kick him out. But no, he didn't want to just blend into the crowd.

[color=#FCDC3B]"Oh, yeah, Pixel. Pay up, maybe if you pay enough he'll kill you quickly. Or not violate your little pink body, at the least." Alfred snorted with more than enough salt for one person in his voice. But he didn't think that would be the end of it. It never was, he was sarcastic trash.

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[fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 400px; font-size: 8pt;text-align:justify; line-height: 120%][fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 75px; height: 75px; float: left;][/fancypost] Storms were the sh!t. He never could explain why he liked them so much, he just...did. They were cool, a product of colliding weather and causing things like thunder and lightning. Sure, Cass hated lightning for a reason even he didn't know the reason behind, and he never questioned it. It wasn't his to know, or Pixel, or f#cking anyone.

But lowkey he liked the storms. Admired them almost, kinda like a mess of destruction and loud as f#ck sounds. Relatable.

And as far as research went, he had tried to think over sh!t until his head hurt and hadn't come up with anything. He wasn't smart, Cass was a genius compared to his dumb ass. To be fair, he was confused as f#ck as to what he felt on that whole situation. He felt alive, like somewhere there was hope, and yet he felt dead. Felt like destroying sh!t but also felt like repairing it with some guilty conscience. He didn't know what he felt at this point, and didn't think he ever did.

He'd made a plan to talk to Cassius and throw that sh!t aside, but he found them with two other people on some hill. Well, f#ck it, then.

He wasn't jealous, or possessive, but when he saw that he let out a long and irritated sigh. It wasn't Curt, though, she was okay he guessed. Most of it went to Pixel. Why Pixel? He had his reasons. Sure, maybe they'd gotten along and he'd managed to get on good terms with her, but still. What if he said most of that was f#cking fake? He just wanted her getting off his back, truth be told. He still thought she was a f#cking nightmare dressed in the stupidest shade of sickening pink he'd ever seen. And those wings, huh? F#ck it all. She could shove those cloud wings up her ass.

Okay, okay, there was a lot of salt here. It was still easy to explain. For example, he hadn't forgiven her for trying to f#cking judge his relationship with the country boy in shades. Two, she gave him hell for the longest time, and he could hold a good f#cking grudge when he wanted to. And that time was now. Hell, he'd just forgiven Oliver for that sh!t.

Not to mention her little 'contract' sh!t was driving him nuts. She always had to be around him, which left him with boiling rage and getting way too protective. He was the boyfriend, dammit! She was just a third f#cking wheel, she needed to get off his god damn man and stop acting like some desperate whore.

Jesus Christ.

"He's doing whatever the f#ck he wants, don't question him." His first answer was directed to, of course, Pixel. Maybe his voice was a bit cynical and tone rather snappy, but he could find an excuse in 2.5 seconds, don't test him. Curt would be spared.

There was something shiny in his jaws, and when he sat down beside Cassius, he began to play around and mess with it. It was actually a blade, and he took to flipping it around lots. [color=#FCDC3B]"Hey, Cassius, look. I found my butterfly knife again. Killed that one dude in Eden with it." He still remembered that. Stabbed him right in the gut for trying to attack him. Good times.

He made sure the glint of the blade caught Pixel's vision, as well as the whole blade itself. She could kiss his ass.

[ IC OPINIONS! Alfred is an asshole rip ]

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Check, check, and still waiting on that last one.

No, it wasn't a pile of sh!t here. Alfred had somehow survived crawling through ice and snow with his guts hanging out, and here he was, as pissed as ever. No, like, super f#cking pissed off. And since no one here quite knew Alfred like they could, should they be that unfortunate, that was a bad, bad thing.

Anger led to him burning a whole room of some dude's sh!t, numerous fights, and blowing up a whole bar. Think he was kidding? F#ck no, he really did that sh!t! And only one got credit.

The thing with him though is that he used to want to control it. He'd wanted to keep his rage down so he didn't hurt anyone, but that was in the past. Now he only had one person he truly, honest to God cared about, and he'd never hurt him. Never again. No matter what people said, what Pixel thought, he'd never hurt Cassius again.

He still remembered it, too. Got overtaken by his own anger and beat the sh!t out of him. Something he ended up regretting when he came to terms with what he'd done. It was mostly a chaotic blur after that point, and even after that was when sh!t got good. Aha, real good. But he wasn't going into that, there were children in this clan that didn't need to hear details.

But he'd pushed all that into the past. He was looking forward, and with some time to think, he was beginning to see a forward for him. There was definitely something this crazy f#cked up world wasn't telling him, showing him in all it's entirety.

He knew somewhere out there, there was something else for him. Something better than this, something he felt was real. He didn't feel real here. To be honest, he felt like he was high as all f#cking hell in whatever this was, with gods and demons running around like mad. And angels too. He was technically one, which was odd considering he was a big f#cking critic, but then again he kinda fell down. You know that pickup line about falling from heaven or something? Yeah, that was him.

But what if that was just some sh!t? What if somewhere he'd wake up from this dream and find himself human again?

Or maybe he was just crazy.

Sitting on the roof of some random ass house, Alfred took a sip of the alcohol beside him, letting out a long sigh. His brain was in overdrive right now, holy sh!t. And the drink wasn't doing him any good, either. Just made everything more confusing to him.

He swallowed down the bitter taste and shook his head, for once not emitting the jingling sound he'd come to know. Why?

He wasn't wearing his dog tags. For once in his life.

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so Alfred is angry and aggressive and likes to fight
i thought it would build his character a little more if he actually fought someone or multiple people so
eh

idk it was just an idea

[fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 400px; font-size: 8pt;text-align:justify; line-height: 120%][fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 75px; height: 75px; float: left;][/fancypost] He hadn't ever had kids, save for Mark, who he'd fully accepted as his own, as strange as that first meeting was. Other than that, none. The biological reasons for that were pretty self explanatory, and because of it the real reasons under it were overlooked. Was he mad about that? No, not at all. He didn't have to explain his real motives for not having any kids, and he was glad. He hated explaining anything beyond what others saw and thought for the most part, nothing deeper than the surface reasons for sh!t. Face value and sh!t. Even with Mark, as much as he loved the little guy, he had his fears and doubts.

For one, he just didn't have the personality to be a father. And that seemed strange, and he wasn't saying there was some set personality you had to have. No, he just...he wasn't the kind of person who ought to be raising kids. He found himself angry at life itself and did sh!t he wasn't proud of sometimes. Not exactly a good example to go off of for an acceptable role model. He got into fights, lit sh!t on fire, drank sometimes ( which was the only thing he guessed wasn't too bad considering he wasn't a full blown alcoholic and rarely got drunk ), and had a f#cking mile long list of issues to deal with. Way too many demons in his head, which he was still battling with. Could he have gotten help from Pixel? He could, but he just knew all her little methods wouldn't work. They probably were pretty good, he didn't know, but he looked at it with the same level he had for hug therapy. Cute and might work for sadness, but certainly not his level of depression and the trauma he was struck down with. Or the confusion and rage.

Two, his parents weren't the best. That sh!t he never talked about, and he didn't even think Cass knew about that. He knew about the war, and some other sh!t, but never his family life. He thought about telling him, but kept putting it off. No one needed to know that sh!t. But even with no one knowing, it still affected him in ways you could see, if you looked hard enough. His mind was doubts, his memories were fears. He didn't want his kids to be raised in the same environment, where anger led to abuse. And considering he was the guy who always fought to relieve stress and anger, usually...he didn't think it was a good idea. He was just too f#cked up, too violent.

Lucien, on the other hand, was everything he wasn't. Even the sadness that seemed to constantly be around him. See, Alfred wasn't sad, he was more disturbed in the mind. You know, f#cked in the head. Lucien was a good guy, though, he liked the dude. And he was a really good parent, too, which he could have envied if he had enough energy and willpower to envy anyone. He guessed what he felt was respect, because your kid dying had to be rough. He didn't know about the stolen one, he hadn't been there.

He thought the kids were cute, but he hated whoever their no good, asshole cunt of a biological father was.

"Damn." Whispering out a single word when he saw the grave and what Lucien was placing on it, Alfred bit the inside of his cheek and argued within himself whether or not to go and leave the other to what he was doing. He looked pretty...busy. He was in no place to disturb a mourning parent when he didn't even know the feeling. Losing a friend was nothing like losing what you created, what you were going to raise into a functioning member of society. It was your kid, kids were everything to the parents.

Well, for the most part.

Eventually he just walked over, making sure not to freak the sh!t out of the deaf feline. Or at least trying to. Normally it would have been pretty funny, but not now. [color=#FCDC3B]"Hey, Lucien. How ya doing?" He offered a small smile, but he just...he was trying his best to be sympathetic, and it was harder than he thought. He just didn't know what they were going through, and he rarely had any true sympathy anymore. But he'd try for one of his few friends.

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