pieces [jamie]

White-gray smoke rose from the end of the cigarette placed between the beastman's lips. Golden eyes flicked from one scene to the next, feeling uneasy and uncomfortable. Why was he here? Why had he come back home? What the hell could have possibly been pulling him back towards the hellhole of despair? There had been absolutely nothing happy about the place Donovan grew up. Once he left, he'd promised himself that he'd never make his way back home. He'd never wander the woods and gnarled paths that twisted in and out, leading to different bits of trouble and paradise.

Donovan inhaled, taking a deep drag of the tobacco; holding it for a minute before expelling the smoke into the sky. Red embers glowed lightly as he puffed at the stick, making his way further into a specif wood he'd remembered all too well. Upon reaching his destination, the beastman looked down. Shoving his hands in the pocket of his jacket, a snarl peeked from the corner of his lip.

Coming back home had been strange enough. What he really couldn't figure out was what had drawn him towards his grandparents' graves. They meant nothing to him, and vise versa when they were still kicking and breathing. Honey colored eyes so full of hate looked down at the graves beside his feet. The urge to spit on and deface them was great, however, thankfully, he was able to resist that urge for the time being. Removing the dying cigarette from between his lips, Donovan put out the last of the embers on the bottom of his boot. Tossing the butt down on his grandfather's grave, he pulled out a crinkled pack from his pocket before placing another cigarette in his mouth, lighting the end. Donovan tucked the pack away, as well as tucking his hands in his pockets again.

What had brought him here?