Although the man couldn't exactly say that his past was a troubled one, he was certainly not a stranger to what it felt like being at odds with oneself. He knew all too well what it was like to question why it was that he'd done the things he had. While the offenses of his past were not what many in this world might consider to be worth any degree of shame, regret, or remorse, they were for the lion. In the end, was it not how one judged themselves and the deeds they've done that was the true measure of whether or not there was anything worth seeking some sort of atonement for? Was it not the wielder of that beating heart, the keeper of that burdened soul, the author of that life story who would ultimately be the one to decide if there should be any reason for them to hope they might just be able to forgive themselves for the paths they've chosen so recklessly for themselves? The world was often quick to pass judgment of those living in it, readily daring to rule whether or not there was anything that required one to repent or plead guilty to. And perhaps to some extent, there were times where it was within reason for those who walked the same earth, the same city streets to look upon another and deem their chosen path and subsequent actions with a sense of criticism, deciding then and there if there was a wrong that needed to be righted... but there was never a moment where the man sitting there upon the park bench had ever been one to look at another and believe that he was in any sort of position where he was entitled to such a way of thinking. He was far from perfect, and Roman would admit to this undeniable fact. It would always be those that thought themselves to be incapable of any sort of wrongdoing that the were found it difficult to understand, just as he did the existence of those who took such wicked pleasure in the pain of others. The man was no god, he would not be the one that those beings would one day face when their mortal life came to an end and the true judgment day arrived at their doorstep.

Forgiveness was something that the lion had yet to give himself for the things that he'd done. While he was not a murderer or a thief, nor had he ever forced himself upon another soul and only ever took to the defense of those that he'd come to care for, there was still a guilt buried deeply within his heart that haunted him during those rare moments when the past would find his thoughts. To some, it was small and insignificant, and maybe from the outside looking in, one might think the man to be unusual for harboring the remorse nestled there in the deepest, darkest crevices of the creature that he was, but it was something that he could not help. He had always been taught to be careful with the hearts of those that loved him, those that placed their trust within his strong hands meant for protecting, to be mindful of how his actions or his words might affect another, even if there were never any malicious intentions behind them. He'd been told that what he did in this life would likely be reminiscent of a pebble being thrown into a pool of water. The stone would break the surface, and those ripples, though small could be so much bigger and perhaps even devastating to all that surrounded it. At first, the young male who'd yet to truly hurt anyone or really make any mistake large enough to serve as that figurative pebble had thought it would take something more than a small action, something more profound than maybe being taken aback by a beautiful creature sitting in the shade reading a book with long locks tousled gently in a passing summer breeze not too unlike the one that brushes against his sun-kissed skin now or even drinking and talking with a beautiful woman to unsettle that tranquil, still surface. How wrong he had been, and how deeply the words of his older brother had resonated within the man when that first mistake had been made out of youthful recklessness. It had all seemed so harmless to him at the time, nothing more harmful that stopping to share a greeting with a stronger on the side of the street. But that merely shows just how little he'd known before.

He'd taken what was never meant for him to take, even if it had been so freely given. Roman should have told her that it wasn't right, that it couldn't be him to be her first as she would be his. And maybe, back then, he might have blamed the way that the sunset and how the golden light caused her hair to glow and set fire to those saphhire-blue eyes that had captivated him from the very first moment he'd seen her. But, he knew better than to try and say that it was not his fault, that there had been no way he could have stopped it. The beast in him was still new, Roman still learning to contain the sheer rush of primal, animalistic urges. That night though, he'd failed to do so. He'd hoped that what had happened between him and Kahla could have been everlasting, but how could it be when his family never stayed in one place long? She would not follow, and he understood that it was because of her family and the loyalty to her own family that tied her there. It had been a mutual agreement, and she'd given him one last kiss, wished him well in wherever it was that life would carry him, yet even in the ease and assurance that she'd offered him, told him that she did not hold any regrets in her heart for what they'd had and how fleeting it had been, there would always be that sense of guilt in the man when she would find her way to his thoughts. He should have learned after that, but he hadn't. It was when he met Divina that the were would see for himself the utter truth of the wise words his brother had parted unto him, how something so seemingly small could be just as devastating as something massive. The lion hadn't meant for things to unfurl the way that they had, but she'd looked so stunning in that red cocktail dress, raven black hair twisted into a loose braid that reached down to the small of her back. Those eyes of warm milk chocolate met his of golden-hazel, and this was where the second and last mistake began. She'd caught him with three shots of bourbon burning through his blood as he and Drake, his younger brother were out enjoying what the city they called their newest temporary home had to offer. His brother had warned him, suggested that Roman come home with them as they prepared to leave the bar in that new city... but he hadn't listened, when he wishes more than ever, looking back, that he had. Divina had been her name, one that even his intoxicated mind would be able to forget, though now, he can't help but wonder if the only reason her name stayed with him was because of the regret that found him in the morning that followed... Her smile had been enough to convince him to stay and order another drink, the drink that would push him over that edge he hadn't intended to fall over that night.

They'd laughed together, and again he found himself drawn to her, and she had made it quickly apparent that she was rather attracted to him in turn. It started with her soft hand resting over his strong and defined forearm, moved into one last drink that ignited the flames of desire within those mysterious earthen eyes, which then led into the were and the woman leaving through the back door and into the alleyway where she pulled her slender frame against his own and stole that first kiss inevitably answered by Roman's own lips. He should have stopped it there, should have known that there was no good way this would end. The words they'd shared, he couldn't even really remember. But what he could never forget was the softness of her skin, the warmth of those sheets upon the bed that they'd shared that night... He remembers sadness in her gaze, the way he could see her heart breaking within them, it may as well have been silver bullets to his heart. He'd never been able to forgive himself for that night, for what he'd let happen and still to this day the were could not manage to find atonement for the way that he'd left Divina when she had deserved so much more, when he should have known that nothing even remotely good could have come from a chance meeting like that. All the warning signs had been there, and he hadn't listened to any of them. Since that night, he promised himself that he would never hurt another woman, that it truly was better if he remained alone for the rest of his days. It had taken the man twice to learn the truth behind Tristan's words, to understand fully that even something that was started out of nothing, but innocent intentions could quickly become a wildfire which would leave scars from what it burned and left behind.

And so, while there was little that he had done in the eyes of the world a vast majority would consider truly wrong, the lion knew well what it felt like to regret to a point so close to physical heartache. He remembers better than he cares to how was to seem trapped by the regret and the what its, that should have been and chances it was far too late for. There was no unwitting the past, only learning how to live with the outcomes so that perhaps something stronger, better could rise from the ashes of what had been. The man thanks him as the lion shifts to make space for his unexpected company."Anytime", Roman replies readily, offering the other another casual grin. They sit there for only a moment, the were venturing to make light conversation which was not often the case for him, his choice rewards by the blonde male's reply which was soon followed by a small chuckle that in turn coerced a knowing grin from the lion as he nods."I understand what you mean. Sometimes, all it takes is a good workout to quiet the onslaught of your mind", he remarks easily in tenor tones, regarding the man for a moment more through golden-hazel eyes."I get that way, too", he adds then, those baritones growing somewhat thoughtful as he dares to wonder of perhaps that draw to let this stranger know he was not quite as alone as he might feel if his intuitions were close. It is then that Roman turns to watch the children, something he had always enjoyed doing, as if perhaps being there would safeguard them from a world he knew would not hesitate for a single moment to consume them with ravenous hunger. He can see the man turning to him though, his voice turning the were's gaze back to the warm grin that echoes on his own chiseled features."It's nothing. If anything, it's good to have company on a day like today. Nice to meet you though, Henry. I'm Roman", he replies, his own features courteous and welcoming before turning back to watch the play structure in the distance, unable to ignore the way that Henry's own gaze follows."So, is this your usual path?", he asks the man beside him, Roman the last to ever pry into the private life of others and yet he can't help feeling that somehow they could both use the easy conversation.

Roman royce

EVERY SECOND COUNTS BECAUSE THERE'S NO SECOND TRY