02 | VISUAL | OLD CITY SANCTUARY | THE TROUBLED IS HUNGRY

[troublescleaner.livejournal.com]

There's some crazy stuff going on. Hell, he was a lion. Seeing Lizzy, that's not really a new thing. It's painful, and it hurts, but Dwight's used to it. He's also used to getting things out the only way he knows how, and since there's no Troubles in Taxon (save for himself, of course), he's reached the only conclusion when it comes to him keeping a calm mind. Seclusion, a stuff drink (whiskey, courtesy of Helen), and the thought of doing something familiar.

He's switched the tablet on mid-drink and then lowers the glass, offering a familiar not-quite-smile as he sets the tumbler down and rubs at his chin, the scrape of hair audible.

"Any idea of winter hunting season permits, or anything of the like?" He asks. He's in a guest room of Old City Sanctuary, blonde hair pushed out of his face. "By that same vein--if I do grab anything, I'm not gonna be able to eat it all. Anyone want any?" It's a stupid offer--meat when you can just hatch it--and he shrugs.

"I make a mean venison stew, anyway." Right now he's just trying to come to terms with the fact that he was turned into a lion. Carry on, Taxon.