The tension only rose, as sharp words pierced the scene, a challenge issued. Chuy let the words roll over him, let them try to stick, try to stir up his own heated, angry, response, and seemed to watch with a quiet, observatory stare as they simply fell short. The farmer and the vet had dealt with grief in others before, had long ago learned to shield himself from it, lest he react poorly, or inappropriately. While he was grieving too, he was also actively seeking ways to alleviate the feeling, rather than the raven-boy's chosen method of wallow in it. He knew grief was a different journey for everyone though, so he didn't begrudge the raven-boy his.
"Alright then," he agreed to the challenge softly, his voice steady even as he walked a bit slower with the wheelbarrow along the path, a thought of surprise that the boy chose to follow him fluttering across the back of his mind briefly. "I imagine you feel like shit. Like you're lost. Hopeless. Like you can't be fucked living anymore because what is the fucking point, if everyone you ever bother to care for just up and fucking dies." His words were spoken clearly, softly, delivered without a lot of emotion behind them. It was as if he was giving a lecture about some droll scientific subject.
He shrugged. "That's just a guess, though." And he kept on walking.
"Alright then," he agreed to the challenge softly, his voice steady even as he walked a bit slower with the wheelbarrow along the path, a thought of surprise that the boy chose to follow him fluttering across the back of his mind briefly. "I imagine you feel like shit. Like you're lost. Hopeless. Like you can't be fucked living anymore because what is the fucking point, if everyone you ever bother to care for just up and fucking dies." His words were spoken clearly, softly, delivered without a lot of emotion behind them. It was as if he was giving a lecture about some droll scientific subject.
He shrugged. "That's just a guess, though." And he kept on walking.
chulane
