There wasn't a day that went by that Faolan didn't think of his parents and the others that had died the day of his first fateful transformation into the beast. It was usually fond memories, mostly of himself and his sister when they were young, and the slight twinges of pain at their recall had faded over time. It was only close to the full moon that he ever felt any sense of guilt or sadness. Deep down he had always known it was not his fault, but that didn't stop their deaths from being on his hands.

Sharing this most intimate of details with another person...it did not give the immediate relief and peace of mind he may have expected. Still, there was a sense of calm that had fallen over the two men as Faolan finished his story. It was done, and he never had to voice it again if he didn't want to. He trusted Lucien, even with this, and he knew that the words that followed were absolutely true.

But that did not ease his heart. His whole life he had tried to desperately to keep others safe from the horror that borrowed his body once every month. He had given up companions, the possibility of friends and a family of his own, a permanent home, all to protect others from himself. The image of Lucien's torn clothes, his bloody leg...all of his precautions and still he had hurt the one person he cared for in this world. It was frustrating, to say the least. He knew in his mind that the best option was to separate, now, before anything else could happen to the boy. Even a life of servitude as a priest would be better than the constant threat of danger that staying with Faolan would bring. Lucien had to see that, didn't he?

Despite this knowledge, he could not imagine it. It had been only a year and yet Faolan had changed so much. Lucien had done that, made him a kinder and more patient person. Being along had made him hard and rough, but Lucien had softened those edges. He felt good, this new version of himself that was allowed to laugh and forget, just for a moment, that this terrible creature lived inside of him. But did he deserve this chance at happiness?

He didn't know, he wasn't sure he ever would.

Finally, after a long silence of Faolan listening to Lucien but not looking up, staring down at his dirt and blood caked palms, he raised his head to look at the Frenchman. [color=a36209]"Lucien...I..."[/color] he started slowly, his voice still rough and heavily accented as his brain readjusted to being himself, [color=a36209]"The thought of hurting you..."[/color] he looked away, but only briefly, [color=a36209]"Of hurting anyone...I can't do that again."[/color] Despite how vulnerable Faolan felt and appeared in this moment, his words were final. This was a non-negotiable truth, and he had to make Lucien understand.

[color=a36209]"I could have killed you, et you even. It's so...It gets so hungry."[/color] He said, his voice cracking from the strain as his eyes began to blur. [color=a36209]"I couldn't live with myself if it happened again."[/color] Faolan had never considered suicide; knowing how his mother had felt about it, he could not bring himself to sully her memory in that way...but Lucien's death, his dismemberment, it may be enough to push him over the edge. Just the thought that he had consumed human flesh made him feel sick, and now he was doing all he could to keep himself from retching.

After taking a moment to compose himself, he swallowed hard, and found himself reaching for the canteen, not to clean his hands with, but to drink from. He simply held it, feeling how still and cool the metal was as a way to steady himself. [color=a36209]"We can't let it happen, do you understand?"[/color]