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http://askthewerewolfprince.deviantart.com/art/Q-Comfort-447797358

* He had been sitting in one of the castles comfortable dens for the last few hours now. Hunched over, staring at the fire that had been started once he was placed there..
Everything had gone by like a blur, the guards and his parents had come to his aid, to find the horror that was him balled up on the floor and the head that lay a few feet away. Concerned hands grasped at him, trying to make sure he was not hurt, asking what had happened, what in glob’s name was going on, but he couldn’t say, because he didn’t entirely know himself and what he did know, he didn’t want to.. 
He was eventually removed from his bedroom and taken to the den where it was considered less stressful while his parents tried to discuss what they should do about this. So here he was, alone, in this room meant for warmth and comfort, but he felt oddly cold.. 
He heard the soft creak of the door at his right, hushed words exchanged, thought he could have heard them clear as day, he had chosen to block them out. But a form soon came around the furred sofa he was sitting upon and sat down at his left. He smelled the familiar sent of pumpkin past the burning wood before he heard the equally familiar voice of his close friend, Gordie, who started off saying his name, then trailing off with that curse of his he often used.
He assumed his parents had sent word to someone to see to it that he was okay while they dealt with this, but he barely batted any eye at his presence.
It was silent for another moment, the only sound being the crackle of the fire, until Gordie spoke up once more, muttering a sincere apology, because…what else could he say at a time like this? 
A heavy hand came down around his shoulder then, and he tensed slightly, something he never did when his friends touched him, but once he was pulled into a hug and the other said sorry once more, he relaxed, and he shakily brought his hands up to grip tightly at his back and hug him in return. A small sob escaped him and he felt the tears begin rolling down his cheeks again.
His heart was heavy for the friend he had lost, but glob was he grateful for the others he had when he needed them.

http://askthewerewolfprince.deviantart.com/art/A-dear-friend-and-a-tragic-end-443753060


*He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, even with it staring at him, literally dead in the face..
This man, if he could even be called that, who had brought himself into the werewolf’s room uninvited (as it seemed most evil beings were prone to doing this, from his experience) had flung it across the floor before he really had any time to react. And then he was gone, and he’d barely heard a word he had said before taking his leave because he was so, startled by what he was seeing. 
The moment he had seen it, the sent of decay and blood came wafting up to his senses, and while he was used to those sort of smells from years of hunting, this instantly made his insides tighten up and churn, threatening to make him sick. His mouth grew dry and his body began to shake as a cold sweat broke out on his skin and slowly trickled down his temple.
"D-Danni.." He uttered, barely audible.
It was her..
Laying there..
Her head..
Only her head..
Flung so carelessly towards him that red had been smeared across the deep brown wood of his floor in her wake. Her face bruised and cut, one eye nearly swollen shut. He stared in horror, unable to tear his gaze away as she seemed to stare back, lifelessly. 
The shock of it finally made his knees shake enough that they buckled out from beneath him and he fell onto them and then one of his hands, while the other had quickly gone to cover his mouth. He began to repeat a muffled mantra of ‘Oh glob..’, as he tried to process it all and calm himself down at the same time. But there was nothing for it. 
What was he supposed to do?
How was he supposed to handle this? 
This couldn’t be real, could it?
Accidentally, his gaze flickered up and caught with her dead one once more, it was her, this was real and he couldn’t..
That had been a mistake as tears pricked the corner of his eyes and he suddenly felt his throat clench up and the food he’d eaten the day now found itself out of his stomach and splattered on the floor. He gagged at the taste of bile on his tongue and did it once more, slamming a fist on the wood as the contents of his stomach were emptied, and the other that had been holding him up, raked down it with suddenly grown claws. He wanted to call for someone, anyone, but he couldn’t seem to form any other words.
After what felt like an eternity of heaving, he slumped downward onto the floor, curling his arms up around his head, whining and shaking, his eye’s clenched shut but tears forced their way out and fell down his face. 

He didn’t even register the tapping on his door shortly after, or the concerned voice of Geoffrey before he opened it, to find him in this pathetic, whimpering heap and began hysterically calling for help. All he could hear was the frantic pounding of his own heart in his chest, like a drum that was going to break it was beating to hard, and he wanted to clamp his hands over his pointed ears and block it out. But even more so he wanted to block out the terrifying mental images and thoughts that were surely going to plague him for some time..

His friend was dead..And there was nothing he could do..* 

A pretty big thing that happened a few months ago with lupe and one of his dear friends

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