The chorus of howling agony shatters them to pieces. For a moment, as Miles laughs in the face of the pack's grief, Kurt doesn't think they'll be able to move through it. How could they? How could they possibly go on living, knowing the horror in those ghostly howls is there because of them?
Of course, they must go on, whether consciously or not. Miles' grip on them is much too strong, vice-tight around their arm as much as their heart. The consequences of disobeying are much too dire.
But even as they scramble into the waiting carriage and cover themself as instructed, Kurt isn't here because they're willing. Miles knows that as well as they do. They know where they belong. They know, as the stricken howls grow fainter and fainter with the thunder of hooves underneath them, that their family will never stop looking for them. The pack will tear itself asunder searching for them, they will turn the woods and mountains inside out for any sign of their lost mate, of the beloved child they'd all been waiting for, the missing piece that would make their family whole at last.
Kurt screams.
They're only human, so their voice doesn't carry the same, doesn't pierce through the trees and make the earth fall still around them. Their agony will never reach far enough. But they still scream, wailing with terror and grief as they're taken away, curled up on themself in the back of the racing carriage. They scream into the rushing wind until their lungs ache, until their insides feel scraped out, and then they scream some more.
Maybe the pack, by some miracle, will hear them. Maybe Miles will punish them the moment he brings the horses to a stop, making them regret ever being born. It doesn't matter, any of it. Kurt screams and screams and screams, but they still stay.
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Date: 2023-11-10 10:17 pm (UTC)Of course, they must go on, whether consciously or not. Miles' grip on them is much too strong, vice-tight around their arm as much as their heart. The consequences of disobeying are much too dire.
But even as they scramble into the waiting carriage and cover themself as instructed, Kurt isn't here because they're willing. Miles knows that as well as they do. They know where they belong. They know, as the stricken howls grow fainter and fainter with the thunder of hooves underneath them, that their family will never stop looking for them. The pack will tear itself asunder searching for them, they will turn the woods and mountains inside out for any sign of their lost mate, of the beloved child they'd all been waiting for, the missing piece that would make their family whole at last.
Kurt screams.
They're only human, so their voice doesn't carry the same, doesn't pierce through the trees and make the earth fall still around them. Their agony will never reach far enough. But they still scream, wailing with terror and grief as they're taken away, curled up on themself in the back of the racing carriage. They scream into the rushing wind until their lungs ache, until their insides feel scraped out, and then they scream some more.
Maybe the pack, by some miracle, will hear them. Maybe Miles will punish them the moment he brings the horses to a stop, making them regret ever being born. It doesn't matter, any of it. Kurt screams and screams and screams, but they still stay.