11-24-2007, 04:45 AM
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Sometimes he thought it was strange that he should spend so much time alone when is family was supposedly so grand and so large. His eldest brother had succeeded their mother as head of the clan, so the grey pup supposed he was busy. Gabriel's mate helped him with whatever it was that they needed to do in running the pack and though he knew she worked hard to try and take care of them all, he felt as if he didn't really see her enough either. He had heard that Gabriel's sister was around somewhere, but he had yet to see or meet her, so what did that matter anyway? The brother and sister from the litter between Gabriel's and his own were also very difficult to locate most of the time and he didn't really feel as if he knew either of them very well anyway. And the brother and sister from his own litter? He avoided Andre as much as he could and he had a distinct feeling that Rachias had really run off to find and live with their father.
He supposed the latter thing wasn't such a bad idea, at least for a little while. He had wondered before what it was like living away from the beach, so what better way was there to find out? But Arkham didn't know his father at all, even less so than the rest of his grand and mysterious family, so how was he to know that things would work out over there? He knew he still wasn't old enough to take care of himself, though he was working hard to learn. His body was small and his teeth and claws not as powerful as they would eventually become -- there was only so much he could do. Most of it was just waiting. Not that he really knew what he would do when he was independent. Some people left. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be one of those people.
The Jungle was a mysterious place. All steel and concrete in varying shades of grey -- monochrome and depressing. Now and again there would be a syntax error'd sign to add color to the landscape, but even those were faded and muted in expression. It was like someone had taken a veil and covered everything with it and he really felt like he shouldn't be there at all, but exploration kept him busy when no one else was around, and so he trekked on through the syntax error'd girders and upturned street lamps, further and further away from 127.0.0.1.
Arkham didn't know much about architecture, but a Neoclassical building would always stand out amongst the syntax error'd landscape. The columns had once been bathed in acid rains and were stained a putrid brown; ivy and moss circled its base now, but it would be a long while still before any real progress was made. Grey puppy feet found their way up the steps, slowly and cautiously as always. There was the scent of a recent canine, but he was still mediocre at identifying just who. Were they from a pack? He couldn't tell, but it definitely wasn't anyone from the beach and he was far away enough from 127.0.0.1 that he would be in serious trouble if it was anything threatening.
All the same, one cautious step followed another and he kept ascending the steps.
He supposed the latter thing wasn't such a bad idea, at least for a little while. He had wondered before what it was like living away from the beach, so what better way was there to find out? But Arkham didn't know his father at all, even less so than the rest of his grand and mysterious family, so how was he to know that things would work out over there? He knew he still wasn't old enough to take care of himself, though he was working hard to learn. His body was small and his teeth and claws not as powerful as they would eventually become -- there was only so much he could do. Most of it was just waiting. Not that he really knew what he would do when he was independent. Some people left. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be one of those people.
The Jungle was a mysterious place. All steel and concrete in varying shades of grey -- monochrome and depressing. Now and again there would be a syntax error'd sign to add color to the landscape, but even those were faded and muted in expression. It was like someone had taken a veil and covered everything with it and he really felt like he shouldn't be there at all, but exploration kept him busy when no one else was around, and so he trekked on through the syntax error'd girders and upturned street lamps, further and further away from 127.0.0.1.
Arkham didn't know much about architecture, but a Neoclassical building would always stand out amongst the syntax error'd landscape. The columns had once been bathed in acid rains and were stained a putrid brown; ivy and moss circled its base now, but it would be a long while still before any real progress was made. Grey puppy feet found their way up the steps, slowly and cautiously as always. There was the scent of a recent canine, but he was still mediocre at identifying just who. Were they from a pack? He couldn't tell, but it definitely wasn't anyone from the beach and he was far away enough from 127.0.0.1 that he would be in serious trouble if it was anything threatening.
All the same, one cautious step followed another and he kept ascending the steps.