05-06-2010, 11:46 PM
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When Snake turned to face the wolf, Daisuke's gaze dropped like a stone, though leveling out somewhere at his scarred chest. Usually he would have regarded this as an act of deference and nothing more, but there was something that he perceived in the golden wolf's eyes that made him believe otherwise. Snake was not nearly as obstinate and ignorant as he had once been—he could tell that there was wanting in his friend, something that he only recently fully understood. It came with his eyes and it came with his expression, and in a flash of tongue across his lips—perhaps interpreted as nervous before but perceived much differently now. Snake was not sure how to handle this new intuition, keeping mostly quiet about it in general though he could feel the fur prickling along his spine.
He cast his olive gaze across the sea when Daisuke mentioned making a new den—something that the Hydra had definitely considered, but not found a savory idea. He supposed he was bitter. He wanted his old den back, he had grown fond of it. But that was impossible; he would have to move on eventually. Where could he possibly go? He was unable to sleep in the caves or the mansion; he hated enclosed spaces like that. And he had grown up in the city, so sleeping in a forest or in a cave seemed... a step backwards. He had liked his car, a perfect mix of human ingenuity and a connection to the great outdoors. Regardless, he did not respond to the pledge, though his stoic gaze flicked back to Daisuke when he continued to swear that he would do anything for him. That was a dangerous thing to promise to anyone. He continued to be silent, though he kept the thought in mind.
The coyote's gaze grew somewhat curious when the other man mentioned concepts such as faith and sin—things he had not really thought about since hearing his mother ramble about them under the crumbling buildings of New Haven. His mother had believed in things like that, powerful entities and destines and demons. Snake's beliefs were a little less extravagant. If there was a god, he either had a bad sense of humor or he no longer really cared for the world he had created. And sin was not an act to Snake—a way of being, opposite virtue. He usually found himself walking a middle road between these two paths, as most did. Some were different though, the saints and the demons. But apart from that, he had no idea how to interpret Daisuke's statement. With the fur along his neck prickling, he decided not to ask.
It didn't really surprise him that Daisuke had missed him, though it was strange to hear—he never really felt like he deserved to be missed. His demeanor was less than appealing; he would never understand Daisuke's fascination for him. But regardless the coyote became very still as the wolf crouched feral onto all fours, moving to where his head was placed under Snake's hand like a dog heeling at the command of its master. He did not do anything—he did not move his hand or say anything. He had been decidedly neutral so far, trying to figure out what to say. He didn't know yet.
Sad without him, really. Snake fatalistically thought that no one would really mourn his passing, but there was always the outlier to prove him wrong and make him feel guilty about such things. The coyote's stomach twisted at this sentiment, though the next was far easier to reply to. At first he was confused—how had Daisuke learned of his getting wounded in the fight with Dahlia de Mai?—and then he realized that the wolf might still think that they were from their last confrontation, the fight. Regardless he withdrew his hand from the wolf's head, unwinding the sea-laden bandage from his torso, face contorting in pain for a brief moment. He revealed the wound on his left side gingerly, frowning. They were obviously from a bite, each tooth visible as a violent laceration. It was not raw, but it was not looking well-healing. Snake sighed. "I usually treat knife and claw wounds—I don't really know what to do," he said; obvious, seeing as though he was resorting to treating his bandages with ocean water.
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When Snake turned to face the wolf, Daisuke's gaze dropped like a stone, though leveling out somewhere at his scarred chest. Usually he would have regarded this as an act of deference and nothing more, but there was something that he perceived in the golden wolf's eyes that made him believe otherwise. Snake was not nearly as obstinate and ignorant as he had once been—he could tell that there was wanting in his friend, something that he only recently fully understood. It came with his eyes and it came with his expression, and in a flash of tongue across his lips—perhaps interpreted as nervous before but perceived much differently now. Snake was not sure how to handle this new intuition, keeping mostly quiet about it in general though he could feel the fur prickling along his spine.
He cast his olive gaze across the sea when Daisuke mentioned making a new den—something that the Hydra had definitely considered, but not found a savory idea. He supposed he was bitter. He wanted his old den back, he had grown fond of it. But that was impossible; he would have to move on eventually. Where could he possibly go? He was unable to sleep in the caves or the mansion; he hated enclosed spaces like that. And he had grown up in the city, so sleeping in a forest or in a cave seemed... a step backwards. He had liked his car, a perfect mix of human ingenuity and a connection to the great outdoors. Regardless, he did not respond to the pledge, though his stoic gaze flicked back to Daisuke when he continued to swear that he would do anything for him. That was a dangerous thing to promise to anyone. He continued to be silent, though he kept the thought in mind.
The coyote's gaze grew somewhat curious when the other man mentioned concepts such as faith and sin—things he had not really thought about since hearing his mother ramble about them under the crumbling buildings of New Haven. His mother had believed in things like that, powerful entities and destines and demons. Snake's beliefs were a little less extravagant. If there was a god, he either had a bad sense of humor or he no longer really cared for the world he had created. And sin was not an act to Snake—a way of being, opposite virtue. He usually found himself walking a middle road between these two paths, as most did. Some were different though, the saints and the demons. But apart from that, he had no idea how to interpret Daisuke's statement. With the fur along his neck prickling, he decided not to ask.
It didn't really surprise him that Daisuke had missed him, though it was strange to hear—he never really felt like he deserved to be missed. His demeanor was less than appealing; he would never understand Daisuke's fascination for him. But regardless the coyote became very still as the wolf crouched feral onto all fours, moving to where his head was placed under Snake's hand like a dog heeling at the command of its master. He did not do anything—he did not move his hand or say anything. He had been decidedly neutral so far, trying to figure out what to say. He didn't know yet.
Sad without him, really. Snake fatalistically thought that no one would really mourn his passing, but there was always the outlier to prove him wrong and make him feel guilty about such things. The coyote's stomach twisted at this sentiment, though the next was far easier to reply to. At first he was confused—how had Daisuke learned of his getting wounded in the fight with Dahlia de Mai?—and then he realized that the wolf might still think that they were from their last confrontation, the fight. Regardless he withdrew his hand from the wolf's head, unwinding the sea-laden bandage from his torso, face contorting in pain for a brief moment. He revealed the wound on his left side gingerly, frowning. They were obviously from a bite, each tooth visible as a violent laceration. It was not raw, but it was not looking well-healing. Snake sighed. "I usually treat knife and claw wounds—I don't really know what to do," he said; obvious, seeing as though he was resorting to treating his bandages with ocean water.