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Description
Atelier: Dorian

Faustus was on his way back to his shop when he heard raised voices. An older stufful was yelling at, from what he gathered, his son. The child shrunk on the spot as his father threw a slew of insults and anger at him. The boy kept apologizing,verging on tears and cowering in front of his father. But this did not pacify the man, who seemed to be dead set on terrorizing his child, berating him until they were verging on tears. When the boy babbled apologies, the man raised a hand and struck him. The resounding slap shot through Faustus like a clap of thunder.

A hand raising and striking him blow after blow, bellowing roars and vicious words. Reminding him of his worthlessness, of his shame of being a disgrace as, not only to his family name, but as a man. Cruel hands that beat him down into submission and a coward. A cowardice that cost him something precious.

He didn't even notice he was moving, until he was on the stufful.

Security came and yanked him off, subduing the banette and dragging him away and confining him to his room.

Alone in his room, Faustus could still feel the rush of emotions that had burned him from the inside out. He he was no stranger to violence inflicted upon him. Nor the violence he could invoke upon others.

Faustus curled into a ball upon his bed, trembling. Just what was wrong with him? What were these memories? What was he?

[After witnessing a scene of abuse, Faustus is reminded of the abuse his father inflicted upon him and the surge of violence and rage he unleashed in return. His mind is rapidly deteriorating and sending him into a spiraling panic. he didn't know this side of himself or these vicious and dark desires that are gradually surfacing. He fears what he is remembering and the man he is becoming in those memories.]

Description
Atelier: Dorian

Faustus was on his way back to his shop when he heard raised voices. An older stufful was yelling at, from what he gathered, his son. The child shrunk on the spot as his father threw a slew of insults and anger at him. The boy kept apologizing,verging on tears and cowering in front of his father. But this did not pacify the man, who seemed to be dead set on terrorizing his child, berating him until they were verging on tears. When the boy babbled apologies, the man raised a hand and struck him. The resounding slap shot through Faustus like a clap of thunder.

A hand raising and striking him blow after blow, bellowing roars and vicious words. Reminding him of his worthlessness, of his shame of being a disgrace as, not only to his family name, but as a man. Cruel hands that beat him down into submission and a coward. A cowardice that cost him something precious.

He didn't even notice he was moving, until he was on the stufful.

Security came and yanked him off, subduing the banette and dragging him away and confining him to his room.

Alone in his room, Faustus could still feel the rush of emotions that had burned him from the inside out. He he was no stranger to violence inflicted upon him. Nor the violence he could invoke upon others.

Faustus curled into a ball upon his bed, trembling. Just what was wrong with him? What were these memories? What was he?

[After witnessing a scene of abuse, Faustus is reminded of the abuse his father inflicted upon him and the surge of violence and rage he unleashed in return. His mind is rapidly deteriorating and sending him into a spiraling panic. he didn't know this side of himself or these vicious and dark desires that are gradually surfacing. He fears what he is remembering and the man he is becoming in those memories.]