n o t all m o n s t e r s ◎ hide in t h e d a r k

Gone so long as to be out of Loki’s mind—she has not thought to clean the house proper, and of course it bears the scent of all comings and goings that have taken place; the scent of the dogs linger around the floor, meats and sweets about the kitchen. And of course, there is what he is mad about.

Loki smells like other people and a passed heat. }

"I know. I’m sorry."

                 but that's what he's become, right? 

                       his species is dragon, but he is a dragon of the earth. when the earth dies for a season, so does he. this has never been a problem before. he, like a bird, migrates to warmer climates, stays in warm forested areas until he bores of them. he has never had need to stay in one area for so long that its seasons begin to change. his shabby, stolen clothes from the summer are no match for the viciously cold snows that harden the ground and kill the plants he draws energy from. }

          {  the steel in her tone tells him that she's still angry. he doesn't understand why, not in the least. she wanted space. he gave her a months worth of space. and even though she now tries to clean his face like she should, as his mother, as his father, as the only family he knows, she is still angry. 

                   he does not understand why; the not knowing makes him angrier, makes his finger tips burn as blood tries to rush to them, as the anger spreads through his freezing body. 

I am Aïdōneus, but you may call me Aidon. 

I am Aïdōneus, but you may call me Aidon. 

     [ Only in New York, and if it isn’t New York, It’s California. Paulie’s pretty sure he’s not in California. He’ll question the bellboy later. ]

       "What are you talking about? It's a plant, it goes outside."

notinthedark

    { he may or may not have a large plotted plant in his arms, the leafy branches nearly obscuring his face. }