For [community profile] lastvoyages: Journal Entry 47 [video+spam]

May. 9th, 2012 11:57 am
nolongerhollow: (glare)
[personal profile] nolongerhollow
[private to Castiel]
The hunters have found out about my exorcism thanks to that damned flood.

I need to make certain that they will not be permitted to attend. No one gets to gloat over my suffering.

[Spam for Deck]
Dracula stood at the railing, arms braced on it, body taut and occasionally trembling with the volcano of emotions he was struggling to contain. His eyes stung, and he kept his head down and his bangs in his face in case he embarrassed himself again.

This is my reward for learning to love, and to feel the need for love. To empathize. To feel caring—and loneliness. To feel, in general. All that work, and when I have finally accomplished this thing, I end up…in agony. Because the woman who was the major reason I did this has made it clear she doesn’t want me at all. Because there is no one for me. Because I now know a need like a thirst that can never be slaked, and must live with the knowledge that left to her own devices, even my own wife doesn’t want to be around me.

A low growl of frustration rumbled in his chest. The railing creaked alarmingly under his hands.

Emotions. They are a burden—and they have made me weak!

He swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling bitterness run through him like a poison. But then, slowly, he raised his head. His eyes narrowed, and a look of determination replaced the despair.

I must go back to how I was, before this place broke me. I want my cold pride back, the indomitable state of simply not giving a damn about anyone except myself. I want…to not feel anymore. This place is so short on happiness and positive things that it’s not like I will be missing anything.

I just have to figure out how. I have to remember what it was like, before the losses, before this place, when I was strong and heartless.

He closed his eyes, tried to focus. On the arrogance, the disdain for others, on apathy.

No more pain. No more confusion. Just the soothing winter creeping into my chest. Hollow, again.

I am hollow.

I feel no love, nor fear, nor sorrow—

I am dead.

And dead men shed no tears.

When he finally opened his eyes, some of the light and expressiveness had faded from them already.
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