Dragged across the finish line

Veigar knew a thing or two about brooding. It was about all he did these days, moping around and trying to avoid attention from anyone, wishing the world would open up and swallow him whole. But he wasn't suicidal, no - that'd be too much of an easy way out, and even if he detested his suffering he was sure it was deserved. He deserved to be alone, to be unloved, to be...

His thoughts were disrupted, and he nearly tripped over his own paws, jerking to an abrupt halt and freezing. He felt as awkward as he looked, head bowed down low to the ground, his markings glowing in a faint display of discomfort. "Ghoul," he returned the greeting plainly, at first ignoring his question and staying silent, like his lack of speech might somehow make the moment end. But it stretched on, and Veigar struggled. "You're supposed to help with my fight training, right?" That was one of the few things he'd taken from the pack meeting, and he'd be thinking over it for awhile now. He needed to get better, he had to. There was no other option.