[PRP] whack-a-mole (Oliver & Preacher)

[The Semblance of Unity]

She slammed her fist into the ground again. It hurt; it ********' hurt so much, but it was distracting. It cleared the threat of tears from her eyes, it blew away her confused thoughts. Preacher looked up at Oliver, eyes hollow and dark.

"If I could cut it out, I would." Then she transformed into a mink and sprang away, sliding around corners and ducking into shadows that would cover her dark brown fur. Preacher needed to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but next to the man she'd hurt and could not apologize for hurting.

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

There she went.

Oliver watched as she morphed into a mink before his very eyes and vanished into the shadows. He was left there alone with his blood and his thoughts and his broken, dismantled emotions. She did it again—it really reminded him of Shiloh, it really did, and in a way it broke his heart. It didn't matter if she was a stranger. That sort of s**t struck chords with him, pack touch completely aside.

He touched the bridge of his nose and winced, eyes squeezing shut. Last time he had something like this happen he was still back at home with his pops. Still, it hadn't hurt as bad as this.

Oliver was content to let himself sit and wallow for a good, long while.

The Semblance of Unity

just doing a fin post! ty for the heartache LMAO