the queen of carthage

Shandom Qi'Vaex · 11-30-2011, 09:15 PM

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Fred!

Word Count: 400+

It had been a while since the alabaster male chose to wander out of Cours des Miracles. By a while he actually meant several weeks; regardless, that was a long time for the long wandering male. It felt more natural for the pearly man to wander without the constraints of a pack, and the itch had long returned. So much of his time spent in Cours des Miracles was considering ways to leave without offending the higher ups; Shandom knew, though, that this was probably impossible. It was also a tribute to his ego that he might consider they at all cared; he had never met them, and never really had any intention of doing so. He'd made up his mind after the first night he spent in the Hotel; Shandom Qi'Vaex was leaving. This whole humanized thing was simply too much for the extremely traditional gentleman.

And so he padded outside the territory, though he did not wander far. He stuck mostly to a southern route, though his instincts were calling him northward; Shandom was Northern bred and he would die as far north as he could imagine. Some would find this strange - cool temperatures were not appealing to most - but he wanted the harshness of winter back. Shandom missed the roaring arctic winds, the vicious snowstorms that buried his packmates in three feet of fluffy snow. So far, this had been a fairly anticlimactic winter, reflected by the lack of snow on the rolling hills where he currently wandered.

He was on his four paws, and he was comfortable that way. When he was in Cours des Miracles, the man felt like a glaring wound, an imperfection against the type of life these people tried so hard to lead. It was incredibly rare that Shandom felt like such an outsider, but Cours des Miracles had successfully transformed the typically cocky gentleman into much more of an introvert. When he was in his element, the cockiness returned, but he hadn't yet found that level of comfort yet. The closet wolf he could call a friend was Terra, and her juvenile antics sometimes irritated him. She was a sweet girl, but a girl nonetheless.

Even here, he felt purposeless. Sighing, the wolf climbed atop a nearby rock and sat atop it, a slight breeze rippling his fur. From a distance, he would look quite impressive; regal, almost. Peering through his good eye, Shandom surveyed the dying land. There was something wrong about this solitude, something slightly uncomfortable and unappealing lurking beneath the surface. Such was the change of seasons.

Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

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