My Boy

Jefferson Soul · 03-09-2011, 01:39 PM

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Hello! Remember to keep your posts around at least 200 words minimum, pretty please. ^^ Hope Jefferson's not too early. Feel free to keep making drama around him; he's a good bystander once everything is settled down.

His old ears were not so old, perhaps; maybe it was the loss of his eye that perked his other senses into a more consistent usage, so that they did not wear down with age as much as they should. He was not that old, the brute remembered. He was not so old. There were still many years for him to live, to continue outliving all the Soul family that had left him behind, all those he might have considered family that he had merely met. He was not so old, he told himself.

But those old, tattered ears caught sound that twisted his scars into suspicion. He did not break into a run, necessarily, for he could run even less than he ever could before. Not even a limp remained of his four-legged gait, though severed down to only three. He did not limp and more, but hobbled, and he hated every second of it. Why he did not shift, move about in his two-legged form and allow his empty sleeve to harass him and flap fabric in his eyes, he did not know, but as he drew closer his wretched three-legged hobbling quickened at the sounds of shouts and panic.

He considered himself hardly a sight to be intimidated by; his horrid scars remained, marking his face and body every which way like bloodied tattoos, but the empty space where his leg had once hung brought to him a new helplessness. Regardless, red-hot emotion burned in his chest as he closed in, a pathetic sight to hobble so close, and yet when the great, large male dived in between them, his single eye glowed and scars wrinkled in a horrid snarl, the intimidation factor reached its normal capacity.

"What is going on here?!" he hissed, wretched stare unmoving from the foul-smelling stranger, his voice no more than a snarl. "Who the hell are you?"

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