05-28-2020, 06:17 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Missing children, missing Moth, so many missing people. The cycle never seemed to stop, but Selby allowed himself the shock of grief every time someone he loved disappeared. It was Ivan this time, his son. Another son gone. Winston. Atticus. Beck had been nowhere to be seen. The pain of it all threatened to swallow his heart whole.
Still, the dedicated machine continued to beat, and so the sawbones carried on, nevermind how much he wanted a moment of pause.
He was very much aware of Ivan’s affinity for rain. And so, he went out into it in search of him, ears pricked back as a measly defense against the onslaught of water. Sure enough, his son was out, as well as Caustic. Mild anxiety prickled at the wolf’s proximity to the child, but he reminded himself that he meant no harm. “Ivan,” he said softly, finding that he had lately been unable to raise his voice above a low tone. “Come inside, please. It’s... you.. I was worried about you.”
Still, the dedicated machine continued to beat, and so the sawbones carried on, nevermind how much he wanted a moment of pause.
He was very much aware of Ivan’s affinity for rain. And so, he went out into it in search of him, ears pricked back as a measly defense against the onslaught of water. Sure enough, his son was out, as well as Caustic. Mild anxiety prickled at the wolf’s proximity to the child, but he reminded himself that he meant no harm. “Ivan,” he said softly, finding that he had lately been unable to raise his voice above a low tone. “Come inside, please. It’s... you.. I was worried about you.”