[A little over a week has passed since Wolfwood's return to the Grove, and it has been...anything but a smooth one.
He has spent most of that time holed up in the clinic, and not by choice. Word that he's come back has probably gotten around by now, and whether or not people chose to come see him- or outright avoid him- was their right. He didn't particularly want to see anyone right now anyway, not when he's like this. Not when he's feeling the way he does. What he's endured isn't something you simply recover from and get to go home. He's not sure if even the serums could fix it, if he had them.
He wakes up every morning and forces himself to stare at the ceiling so he doesn't have to see it. He's so full of bitterness and anger that he doesn't how how to properly express any of it, so it's being bottled up, compacted, and put away until he feels nothing but the heavy weight of his sins bearing him down. Because, in the end, this was earned. This is the price he's paid for what he did, and he has nobody to blame but himself for it. He was warned, he simply did not listen.
By now, he's been cleared to leave the clinic. His forced-amputation had resulted in severe blood loss, but since it was clean and quick, so long as he keeps getting the wound dressed while it heals, no further complications should arise...save the obvious. Livio acts as pseudo-caretaker whether Wolfwood likes it or not, helping him to get around because he simply lacks the strength to do so himself. He can't hobble without a pair of crutches, and he's finding that even that takes more energy than he has to spend right now. So...
He's placed in a wheelchair, and the reality sets in completely.
No longer the Punisher, but Chapel.
Since a wheelchair is difficult to push along the uneven ground of the outside without the arm-strength to really get it going, Livio is the one most often seen pushing Wolfwood from here to there, though very rarely is the Priest outside at all right now. He'd gone straight home from the clinic, and hadn't re-emerged for some days after. This morning though, upon seeing how restless and frustrated he was becoming, Livio had wheeled him to the Church. It holds terrible memories now, the remnants of the botched bonfire still scattered about outside, old claw marks rent into the grass that hasn't yet fully grown to cover it. He's staring into his lap as they enter, so he doesn't see that a second grave has appeared.
In fact, he doesn't see anything for a moment as he's pushed inside, just the dark and the familiar too-cold air because the hole in the roof never got fixed. The pigeons are definitely still in the building too, having completely taken it over while Wolfwood wasn't here, having dropped little feathers all over the floor where a form has collapsed before the cross.
Seeing him snaps him out of it, and for just a brief flash of a moment, Wolfwood's seething anger at the blonde is replaced with shock.]
ii im sorry this is so long
He has spent most of that time holed up in the clinic, and not by choice. Word that he's come back has probably gotten around by now, and whether or not people chose to come see him- or outright avoid him- was their right. He didn't particularly want to see anyone right now anyway, not when he's like this. Not when he's feeling the way he does. What he's endured isn't something you simply recover from and get to go home. He's not sure if even the serums could fix it, if he had them.
He wakes up every morning and forces himself to stare at the ceiling so he doesn't have to see it. He's so full of bitterness and anger that he doesn't how how to properly express any of it, so it's being bottled up, compacted, and put away until he feels nothing but the heavy weight of his sins bearing him down. Because, in the end, this was earned. This is the price he's paid for what he did, and he has nobody to blame but himself for it. He was warned, he simply did not listen.
By now, he's been cleared to leave the clinic. His forced-amputation had resulted in severe blood loss, but since it was clean and quick, so long as he keeps getting the wound dressed while it heals, no further complications should arise...save the obvious. Livio acts as pseudo-caretaker whether Wolfwood likes it or not, helping him to get around because he simply lacks the strength to do so himself. He can't hobble without a pair of crutches, and he's finding that even that takes more energy than he has to spend right now. So...
He's placed in a wheelchair, and the reality sets in completely.
No longer the Punisher, but Chapel.
Since a wheelchair is difficult to push along the uneven ground of the outside without the arm-strength to really get it going, Livio is the one most often seen pushing Wolfwood from here to there, though very rarely is the Priest outside at all right now. He'd gone straight home from the clinic, and hadn't re-emerged for some days after. This morning though, upon seeing how restless and frustrated he was becoming, Livio had wheeled him to the Church. It holds terrible memories now, the remnants of the botched bonfire still scattered about outside, old claw marks rent into the grass that hasn't yet fully grown to cover it. He's staring into his lap as they enter, so he doesn't see that a second grave has appeared.
In fact, he doesn't see anything for a moment as he's pushed inside, just the dark and the familiar too-cold air because the hole in the roof never got fixed. The pigeons are definitely still in the building too, having completely taken it over while Wolfwood wasn't here, having dropped little feathers all over the floor where a form has collapsed before the cross.
Seeing him snaps him out of it, and for just a brief flash of a moment, Wolfwood's seething anger at the blonde is replaced with shock.]
Vash-