08-22-2009, 03:17 AM
Yeah, mine is a public speaking class... which I don't see the point in taking because I don't see myself going into a career that requires massive amounts of public speaking (and not to mention that I'm anti-social, which makes it ten times more difficult, rofl) outside of things like "hi, how can I help you today?". I'd sooner saw off my legs than take that class, really. I'm liable to. Anyway, the powerplay is A-OK with me, just so long as we don't go throwing poor Hez down a canyon and into the river. Otherwise I don't really care too much. XD
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As they started towards Inferni, there came the question that he had been trying to answer for himself for quite some time. How did you get these wounds? Hezekiah tried to remember what had happened, but the only things he could really recall was where he had been and where he had woke up. Where he had been was most definitely not where he was (something that he had established several times with himself and continued to do so every so often), though he remembered what the place was where he had been. But he couldn’t have pointed in the right direction to say from whence he came. In the right light and time, he could have probably found the place where he had woke with a start, damp from the rain and full of fear and pain.
“I… don’t really know,” he said, picking and choosing his words as if they were that hard to string together. “I don’t remember how I got here.” Maybe it was amnesia, maybe it was repression, who could say? It could have been both. He swallowed the dry taste in his mouth, only to find that swallowing didn’t really help it at all. He shrugged his shoulders gently, truly at a loss for figuring out what had even happened to him. His gash was just a gash to him, he wasn’t able to tell or decide if it had been caused by tooth, claw, or some sort of other sharp object. It wasn’t in his nature to provoke anyone, so he doubted inwardly that he had tried to fight. Still, it could have been from a fall, a hunt gone wrong, or some sort of other applicable accident that didn’t readily cross his mind.
But all things considered, for as young as he was, someone had to notice that he was gone. Surprisingly though, he felt remotely indifferent about that as well. Someone would notice he was gone, maybe they would look for him, maybe they wouldn’t. For all he knew, he could have been gone for minutes, hours, or days; to take a guess at the expanse of time was too hard to do right then and there. And it didn’t matter either — something else caught his eye through the underbrush and tall grasses. The pikes and skulls, the increasing smell of something that flipped the mental switch marked instinct on: a border.
Hezekiah stopped dead in his tracks, no longer leaning against Kaena as he took in the sight through the cover ahead of them. From the distance that they were at, the detail was less sharp than it should have been—a visual reminder for him that he was nearsighted—but he had enough imagination to know what it was that he was looking at. “Is this… your Inferni?” he queried, uncertain more than ever now that they were there. It was grim, but very much something he had never seen before and therefore quite fascinating. But a border was still a border and though they had no front door to march up to and knock, he thought maybe they had come far enough; almost too close to the strongest points in that border.
Even worse for wear, he knew when he had gone far enough not to get into trouble.
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“I… don’t really know,” he said, picking and choosing his words as if they were that hard to string together. “I don’t remember how I got here.” Maybe it was amnesia, maybe it was repression, who could say? It could have been both. He swallowed the dry taste in his mouth, only to find that swallowing didn’t really help it at all. He shrugged his shoulders gently, truly at a loss for figuring out what had even happened to him. His gash was just a gash to him, he wasn’t able to tell or decide if it had been caused by tooth, claw, or some sort of other sharp object. It wasn’t in his nature to provoke anyone, so he doubted inwardly that he had tried to fight. Still, it could have been from a fall, a hunt gone wrong, or some sort of other applicable accident that didn’t readily cross his mind.
But all things considered, for as young as he was, someone had to notice that he was gone. Surprisingly though, he felt remotely indifferent about that as well. Someone would notice he was gone, maybe they would look for him, maybe they wouldn’t. For all he knew, he could have been gone for minutes, hours, or days; to take a guess at the expanse of time was too hard to do right then and there. And it didn’t matter either — something else caught his eye through the underbrush and tall grasses. The pikes and skulls, the increasing smell of something that flipped the mental switch marked instinct on: a border.
Hezekiah stopped dead in his tracks, no longer leaning against Kaena as he took in the sight through the cover ahead of them. From the distance that they were at, the detail was less sharp than it should have been—a visual reminder for him that he was nearsighted—but he had enough imagination to know what it was that he was looking at. “Is this… your Inferni?” he queried, uncertain more than ever now that they were there. It was grim, but very much something he had never seen before and therefore quite fascinating. But a border was still a border and though they had no front door to march up to and knock, he thought maybe they had come far enough; almost too close to the strongest points in that border.
Even worse for wear, he knew when he had gone far enough not to get into trouble.