01-21-2023, 07:04 AM
// content warning for suicidal thoughts
Maybe it had been impulsive of him to leave the flatter areas of the valley — but could you blame him? He'd always been a wanderer, light on his feet, his heart soaring with the wind and dancing among the rays of sunlight that kissed distant mountaintops. Or, well, that's what he'd have liked to tell himself. That that was why he'd chosen to scale the most horrendous set of peaks he'd ever seen in his life — because he was happy, right? And that's what happy wolves did. Scaled things. Did things. Lived, instead of trudging around in the daily slop of life, waiting for the day they died.
Lincoln's lungs burned with the frigid air and the exertion of his travels, but that didn't stop him from snorting at his own thoughts. It was okay to grieve, he told himself. It was okay to feel — but part of him just didn't want to. Like maybe if he ignored the heartache, eventually it would scab over and heal and he wouldn't have to deal with it.
Silently he waded through the layers of snow, watching it as it passed beneath him, hyper focused on the acute burn of his limbs. It dawned on him that he wasn't sure what he was looking for, way up here, or what on earth he'd find — but, well, there was never a shortage of cliffs, right? If all else failed, of course.
// visible, probably a little ways below Jac, completely oblivious to her presence
Maybe it had been impulsive of him to leave the flatter areas of the valley — but could you blame him? He'd always been a wanderer, light on his feet, his heart soaring with the wind and dancing among the rays of sunlight that kissed distant mountaintops. Or, well, that's what he'd have liked to tell himself. That that was why he'd chosen to scale the most horrendous set of peaks he'd ever seen in his life — because he was happy, right? And that's what happy wolves did. Scaled things. Did things. Lived, instead of trudging around in the daily slop of life, waiting for the day they died.
Lincoln's lungs burned with the frigid air and the exertion of his travels, but that didn't stop him from snorting at his own thoughts. It was okay to grieve, he told himself. It was okay to feel — but part of him just didn't want to. Like maybe if he ignored the heartache, eventually it would scab over and heal and he wouldn't have to deal with it.
Silently he waded through the layers of snow, watching it as it passed beneath him, hyper focused on the acute burn of his limbs. It dawned on him that he wasn't sure what he was looking for, way up here, or what on earth he'd find — but, well, there was never a shortage of cliffs, right? If all else failed, of course.
// visible, probably a little ways below Jac, completely oblivious to her presence