07-09-2009, 03:56 AM
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440 words~
Ares had gotten very good at sectioning off his worries and self-doubt. Well, this was true at least for those that pertained particularly towards his goals of revenge and saving his sister (or more specifically, his inaction regarding these issues). Sometimes he would dwell on these problems, and just sulk around the edges of the pack lands, avoiding any and all company because he certainly did not deserve any of the friendliness his lovely pack-mates were nigh-sure to lavish on him. He had acquired a notebook and a mechanical pencil, trying his hand at expressing his self-loathing in words. The scribbles he came up with were typical emo garbage about the blackness of his soul, etc, etc, but if anyone dared to say anything of that sort they would feel the flame of his temper. Ares was secretly incredibly proud of his clever turns of phrase.
But today, and many days recently, he had been able to completely bury his issues. He liked to think of it as a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde situation, although it wasn't anywhere near as drastic as a split personality. He did have two names, though - Ares the Basic Officer, the lowly ranked but highly valued member of Crimson Dreams, with a handful of people that might even count as friends. Conor for sure, since they had made it specific, but probably also Mati and maybe even Jaz or Savina. And then Buttface, the abused child, curled up in a fetal position, nursing his wounds and plotting in a dark corner of his soul. Ares' active imagination twisted the situation into something far more dramatic and novel-worthy than it really was, of course.
The heady scent of flowers, wild roses, plucked Ares' attention as he meandered, lazily following the scent of a squirrel to practice his well-honed tracking abilities. As far as he knew, there weren't many flowers nearby, so they must be moving and thus must be carried. A further examination confirmed his theory, and he padded off happily in the direction the wind retrieved them from. This promised to be more interesting than some squirrel. He wasn't even that hungry; he had caught a rabbit and two mice this morning, and was following the scent more to pass the time. A young blonde girl appeared to be their bearer. She was very pretty, especially with the scent of the roses hanging heavy on her own. Ares misjudged her age, thinking her closer to his own than she really was, as he still hadn't realized that he was actually smaller than your average wolf. "Pretty flowers! Who they for?" He called out brightly.
Ares had gotten very good at sectioning off his worries and self-doubt. Well, this was true at least for those that pertained particularly towards his goals of revenge and saving his sister (or more specifically, his inaction regarding these issues). Sometimes he would dwell on these problems, and just sulk around the edges of the pack lands, avoiding any and all company because he certainly did not deserve any of the friendliness his lovely pack-mates were nigh-sure to lavish on him. He had acquired a notebook and a mechanical pencil, trying his hand at expressing his self-loathing in words. The scribbles he came up with were typical emo garbage about the blackness of his soul, etc, etc, but if anyone dared to say anything of that sort they would feel the flame of his temper. Ares was secretly incredibly proud of his clever turns of phrase.
But today, and many days recently, he had been able to completely bury his issues. He liked to think of it as a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde situation, although it wasn't anywhere near as drastic as a split personality. He did have two names, though - Ares the Basic Officer, the lowly ranked but highly valued member of Crimson Dreams, with a handful of people that might even count as friends. Conor for sure, since they had made it specific, but probably also Mati and maybe even Jaz or Savina. And then Buttface, the abused child, curled up in a fetal position, nursing his wounds and plotting in a dark corner of his soul. Ares' active imagination twisted the situation into something far more dramatic and novel-worthy than it really was, of course.
The heady scent of flowers, wild roses, plucked Ares' attention as he meandered, lazily following the scent of a squirrel to practice his well-honed tracking abilities. As far as he knew, there weren't many flowers nearby, so they must be moving and thus must be carried. A further examination confirmed his theory, and he padded off happily in the direction the wind retrieved them from. This promised to be more interesting than some squirrel. He wasn't even that hungry; he had caught a rabbit and two mice this morning, and was following the scent more to pass the time. A young blonde girl appeared to be their bearer. She was very pretty, especially with the scent of the roses hanging heavy on her own. Ares misjudged her age, thinking her closer to his own than she really was, as he still hadn't realized that he was actually smaller than your average wolf. "Pretty flowers! Who they for?" He called out brightly.