This time Astor had a lot more things to pack. That depressed him, seeing how comfortable he had gotten, all the objects he had come to think they belonged to him. This comfort he felt here, the peace after his harsh training looking at the sunset from the wide windows, would he be able to find it ever again?
Betrayed so easily, naive to even think that someone would want to offer him a home, the idea now of him trusting someone again hurt him, it almost felt impossible.
The werewolf had spent day after day thinking about Rem, wishing for his safe return like a fool. He silently worshiped someone who wanted to strip him from everything he ever had then lead him to his death, humiliated and left with nothing.
