snow softly painted this town
Dec. 24th, 2025 01:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
adistanthowling posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
thecityneversleepsSometimes the only thing that helps is to shift. Though he's always been on the smaller side, Ruslan feels safer in his wolf form and more grounded. It's easier to howl and vent his sorrow that way than to keep it all to himself. There's no one to talk to about this loneliness, no one who'd really understand just how intensely wrong it feels for him not to be home with his pack. He's lost on his own. It's not like he relies on Khan to lead him in every little thing or anything like that. It's just, after ten years with the others, he's used to having a real family now. He went so long without one that it was the only thing he knew. Having people to rely on, to love and support him, took time to adjust to, and now that he has, it's gone.
It's not at all like how he grew up. Darrow is much larger than Crowhelm Laboratories was, and there's no Serah waiting to make sure he returns each night, no one leading him into a lab to draw his blood, no gaps in his memories. But it is, undoubtedly, still a cage. And at least there, he eventually had Mahan and Camill to keep him steady and help him escape. It wasn't something he thinks he would have done on his own. He was so young then, so weak. He wouldn't have known how to start. He'd barely understood the concept.
There's never really been a time that those memories left him alone for long, but he thinks of them more these days. It's that kind of loneliness.
He's done a lot of good since then and he's really grown up. Most days, though, he still feels like more of a kid than he'd want his pack to know. When he shifts, though, leaving his clothes neatly tucked in a bag at the base of a tree, and goes running through the snow near Kagura, it helps. On four paws, senses amplified even further, the world makes more sense. He vents his sadness in mournful howls and works some of that worried energy out of his system by running as fast as he can, so quick he's all but invisible as he whips between trees. By the time he returns to his bag and dresses, he feels better — worn out but fresher, some of the pain scrubbed out of him with clean cold air.
There's one other thing that's infinitely superior about being wolf-shaped: it is so much freaking warmer. He shivers violently as he dresses, bundling up into layers that only get him close to as cozy as he can be when he's a wolf. It's honestly stupid.
At least as a person, though, he can walk into the lodge and sit down near the fire with a cup of hot chocolate. He's super careful to avoid any mistletoe this time, now that he knows about it. The cloth bag he had his clothes in is folded up small and stuffed in his coat pocket, and he feels a little more okay up here. It's still very festive, but it's easier to deal with here, maybe because it still feels like a hotel. It doesn't hit as hard as walking through city streets glittering with colored lights, bells ringing out. It doesn't feel the same kind of lonely.
He stands to throw his paper cup away, considering whether or not to get another cocoa, when he notices movement out of his peripheral vision — a glove falling to the ground. Crossing to it, he picks it up, glancing around for its possible owner. "Excuse me," he says, "I think you dropped this." They won't want to go back out without gloves on.
[ Come meet (or once again encounter) smol wolf boy. It's his first Christmas alone since he started having Christmases, and he is very small. Open until this says otherwise. ]
It's not at all like how he grew up. Darrow is much larger than Crowhelm Laboratories was, and there's no Serah waiting to make sure he returns each night, no one leading him into a lab to draw his blood, no gaps in his memories. But it is, undoubtedly, still a cage. And at least there, he eventually had Mahan and Camill to keep him steady and help him escape. It wasn't something he thinks he would have done on his own. He was so young then, so weak. He wouldn't have known how to start. He'd barely understood the concept.
There's never really been a time that those memories left him alone for long, but he thinks of them more these days. It's that kind of loneliness.
He's done a lot of good since then and he's really grown up. Most days, though, he still feels like more of a kid than he'd want his pack to know. When he shifts, though, leaving his clothes neatly tucked in a bag at the base of a tree, and goes running through the snow near Kagura, it helps. On four paws, senses amplified even further, the world makes more sense. He vents his sadness in mournful howls and works some of that worried energy out of his system by running as fast as he can, so quick he's all but invisible as he whips between trees. By the time he returns to his bag and dresses, he feels better — worn out but fresher, some of the pain scrubbed out of him with clean cold air.
There's one other thing that's infinitely superior about being wolf-shaped: it is so much freaking warmer. He shivers violently as he dresses, bundling up into layers that only get him close to as cozy as he can be when he's a wolf. It's honestly stupid.
At least as a person, though, he can walk into the lodge and sit down near the fire with a cup of hot chocolate. He's super careful to avoid any mistletoe this time, now that he knows about it. The cloth bag he had his clothes in is folded up small and stuffed in his coat pocket, and he feels a little more okay up here. It's still very festive, but it's easier to deal with here, maybe because it still feels like a hotel. It doesn't hit as hard as walking through city streets glittering with colored lights, bells ringing out. It doesn't feel the same kind of lonely.
He stands to throw his paper cup away, considering whether or not to get another cocoa, when he notices movement out of his peripheral vision — a glove falling to the ground. Crossing to it, he picks it up, glancing around for its possible owner. "Excuse me," he says, "I think you dropped this." They won't want to go back out without gloves on.
[ Come meet (or once again encounter) smol wolf boy. It's his first Christmas alone since he started having Christmases, and he is very small. Open until this says otherwise. ]
