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Conturbātiō; Oneshot
Topic Started: Nov 11 2014, 12:07 PM (243 Views)
Serpico
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It's your boy.
[ *  *  * ]
((Corin continued from: I played it out))

He could only follow his approximate knowledge of where he thought Paisley would be, but the tracks had worn off early on and he could not make out what the subtle trails of tracks, dirt, snow and sticks were willing to tell him. He was following what was only a spectre of a trail, there was nothing backing his intuition and he slowed down until he begrudgingly admitted to himself that he had nothing. The sun had slunk away in the while, low and slowly bidding him farewell. He felt somehow that this would be the last sun set he would ever lay eyes on. He was certain of that, as he was certain that he was sick of the suffering and loneliness.

This area was a turning point for him, to where his circles would lead him in the end he did not know, but he had returned to this point. In the darkness, this area struck up some lingering fear in the back of his mind, more sadness and fleeting memories of Bunny. He paused near some trees to take Ramon’s pistol, holding it like it was a filthy necessity. The half empty pistol slipped into his coat pocket, within reach for the night, just to assure him a little more. But his mind could not leave Bunny, nor Paisley, Vahka, Vincent, Naomi or anyone else. There was nothing on the show that could reassure him enough, or let him forget what a coward he felt he was.

His mind reeled over scene after scene as he could feel his cheeks burning with shame, both glad to be alone but hurting from the isolation. It wasn’t Paisley that ached the most, but the fact that his simple inaction was likely responsible for the death of Bunny. At the very least his mind was spared the correlation that the killer was a person he had crossed and very well have been able to stop. In the midst of these thoughts, his rational mind told him that Bunny was too trusting and that she would have eventually ground the team into nothing, but it did little to lessen the pressure of guilt. He took up his belongings and skulked between the buildings, realising that there was not a single living soul lingering in the darkness with him as far as he was aware. It seemed suitable to stop and rest, but at the moment Corin could not bring himself to sleep, and doubted he could in a place where memories like his would bubble up.

He slipped into one of the buildings to take a breather and to eat quick a meal while he had the time. But he could only think of home, comparing the miserable meal to what was staple in his kitchen while he had time to reflect. Since arriving he didn’t even glance at the bracelet on his wrist, stop to wonder what his family was thinking, or if they were even watching. He hoped that they did not, and he quietly hoped that they did not see the state of their sad and pitiful son.

As he started to pack up and leave, his mind thought of where this could end for him and every answer only turned in negative forecasts.

As he took his last steps out his free hand lightly skirted the handle of the pistol hidden underneath his coat, to always bear it in mind.

((To be continued elsewhere))
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