01-08-2010, 10:30 PM
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OMG PHYSICAL CONTACT. This is where Snake freaks out. 1036
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OMG PHYSICAL CONTACT. This is where Snake freaks out. 1036
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He could tell that the way he spoke, the way he regarded Daisuke was hurting the wolf. Or at least he thought it might—he could certainly see how it could. But Snake did not believe in lying (even if the version of lying was merely softening the truth) in order to preserve nerves, to preserve fragile emotions and ridiculous feelings. They were like a glass orb that one was forced to carry around, always trying to protect from the world. It was constant, insane. Why would someone care for something that was such a burden? Snake had dropped it long ago, let it shatter into a million pieces before abandoning it behind. Emotions, feelings—they were obstacles. He was better without them.
And sometimes when he thought this way, he wasn’t sure if they were his own or if it was just more of Patriot’s whispers echoing in his head.
The golden wolf seemed afraid for him; he had guessed that much. Abandoning the rock that he had been waiting on, he approached Snake. The shorter canine didn’t respond, his face still contorted and his muscles incredibly tense. It was strange—anyone else would have expected it, but he did not, when Daisuke took him into a hug. At first, he almost panicked. Fight or flight responses began to shout and cry in the back of his head; he almost broke away right there, in fear. In his life, affection had not played any role. Foxhound and he had only been so close when fighting, tearing each other to shreds. Patriot had made him look at him, made him listen, made him think. His mother, his father, they had never been openly loving with them. They had not hugged him, barely offering the occasional warm glance. He had liked it that way. There was a radius around him that made him safe—when it was infringed upon, he was in danger. He was open, vulnerable, danger, danger, danger! The fear screamed in his ears, even though it was totally irrational. He was not open to rational thought right now. All he knew was that he was in danger, and the fear nearly made him lose it right then and there.
This mental frenzy was totally silent, totally invisible to the outside world. He remained stock-still, a statue, not daring to move. His mind expected it, the attack, the flash of teeth. He had temporarily forgot who he was with—he had forgotten that it mattered. His brain was hard-wired to think that anyone this close just wanted to hurt him. But as the seconds dragged themselves sluggishly by, his brain began to wake up. Nothing bad was happening—what was going on? His eyes cleared up, seeing for the first time in several seconds, and he realized he was not in danger. He suddenly felt incredibly and painfully guilty, frightened of what he had felt. How crazy was he? His friend was trying to do something nice for him and he was freaking out like some nutcase?
He could hear the golden wolf speaking now, warning him, telling him he didn’t want him to get hurt. Wants, if they fed bellies and satiated thirst and created barriers around everyone, protecting them from harm, the world would be perfect. But it was not so. Snake suddenly felt caustic, saying in a low tone, “What will happen, will happen. I’m not afraid. I was made for this.” I am a weapon, he thought, realizing with a sickening feeling that everything he had just said were Patriot’s going from his memories out of his mouth. He believed them. “No, don’t come near Inferni. Barriers. Traps. Patrols. We are looking for a fight.”
It was funny when Daisuke mentioned sleep—Snake had been getting the same amount that he had always gotten. Usually when he slept, his mind went dormant, quiet and black. Now it was beginning to buzz with memories, with fears, in nightmares that he could not remember while awake. Usually he woke up now feeling more tired than when he had gone to sleep.
He remained completely motionless as Daisuke’s hand passed over his cheek, fighting back the fears that continued to wail at him. He felt completely torn in two—all his instincts that had kept him alive for so long were telling him never to do this, never to trust. He would live longer that way, they said. Those instincts had been alone in his head for many months, but now there was another—a sense of loyalty to his clan and to his friends that was battling with those primitive impulses. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t understand. What did it mean? What was it about this that made other lycanthropes feel better? Safer? It just did the opposite for him. Did that mean there was something wrong with him?
Regardless, his final request was simple enough. Snake wasn’t sure if he would be able to—if he did get hurt, but not killed, he might not be well enough to call. And regardless, he might forget. Sometimes he got to his den after a long day and with a lapse in thought he woke up the next morning, not even remembering getting into bed and falling asleep. In any case, he merely nodded his head and said, “If you want.” He was still confused, having trouble believing that anyone would care that much about him. Why? That was the question that kept raging, confined within his skull. He was not useful as a friend. He did not have insightful looks on life. He was probably a negative drain on those around him. The only way that he had ever proved useful to the world was in battle, using what he had learned those months ago to good use. Sometimes a dark part of his mind told him that this friendship thing was just a lie, something used by sentient beings to get closer to others just so they could hurt one another. He just wasn’t sure. Though capable, Snake was not a deep thinker. The fact that he was thinking so much now was frightening and gave him a headache.
He could tell that the way he spoke, the way he regarded Daisuke was hurting the wolf. Or at least he thought it might—he could certainly see how it could. But Snake did not believe in lying (even if the version of lying was merely softening the truth) in order to preserve nerves, to preserve fragile emotions and ridiculous feelings. They were like a glass orb that one was forced to carry around, always trying to protect from the world. It was constant, insane. Why would someone care for something that was such a burden? Snake had dropped it long ago, let it shatter into a million pieces before abandoning it behind. Emotions, feelings—they were obstacles. He was better without them.
And sometimes when he thought this way, he wasn’t sure if they were his own or if it was just more of Patriot’s whispers echoing in his head.
The golden wolf seemed afraid for him; he had guessed that much. Abandoning the rock that he had been waiting on, he approached Snake. The shorter canine didn’t respond, his face still contorted and his muscles incredibly tense. It was strange—anyone else would have expected it, but he did not, when Daisuke took him into a hug. At first, he almost panicked. Fight or flight responses began to shout and cry in the back of his head; he almost broke away right there, in fear. In his life, affection had not played any role. Foxhound and he had only been so close when fighting, tearing each other to shreds. Patriot had made him look at him, made him listen, made him think. His mother, his father, they had never been openly loving with them. They had not hugged him, barely offering the occasional warm glance. He had liked it that way. There was a radius around him that made him safe—when it was infringed upon, he was in danger. He was open, vulnerable, danger, danger, danger! The fear screamed in his ears, even though it was totally irrational. He was not open to rational thought right now. All he knew was that he was in danger, and the fear nearly made him lose it right then and there.
This mental frenzy was totally silent, totally invisible to the outside world. He remained stock-still, a statue, not daring to move. His mind expected it, the attack, the flash of teeth. He had temporarily forgot who he was with—he had forgotten that it mattered. His brain was hard-wired to think that anyone this close just wanted to hurt him. But as the seconds dragged themselves sluggishly by, his brain began to wake up. Nothing bad was happening—what was going on? His eyes cleared up, seeing for the first time in several seconds, and he realized he was not in danger. He suddenly felt incredibly and painfully guilty, frightened of what he had felt. How crazy was he? His friend was trying to do something nice for him and he was freaking out like some nutcase?
He could hear the golden wolf speaking now, warning him, telling him he didn’t want him to get hurt. Wants, if they fed bellies and satiated thirst and created barriers around everyone, protecting them from harm, the world would be perfect. But it was not so. Snake suddenly felt caustic, saying in a low tone, “What will happen, will happen. I’m not afraid. I was made for this.” I am a weapon, he thought, realizing with a sickening feeling that everything he had just said were Patriot’s going from his memories out of his mouth. He believed them. “No, don’t come near Inferni. Barriers. Traps. Patrols. We are looking for a fight.”
It was funny when Daisuke mentioned sleep—Snake had been getting the same amount that he had always gotten. Usually when he slept, his mind went dormant, quiet and black. Now it was beginning to buzz with memories, with fears, in nightmares that he could not remember while awake. Usually he woke up now feeling more tired than when he had gone to sleep.
He remained completely motionless as Daisuke’s hand passed over his cheek, fighting back the fears that continued to wail at him. He felt completely torn in two—all his instincts that had kept him alive for so long were telling him never to do this, never to trust. He would live longer that way, they said. Those instincts had been alone in his head for many months, but now there was another—a sense of loyalty to his clan and to his friends that was battling with those primitive impulses. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t understand. What did it mean? What was it about this that made other lycanthropes feel better? Safer? It just did the opposite for him. Did that mean there was something wrong with him?
Regardless, his final request was simple enough. Snake wasn’t sure if he would be able to—if he did get hurt, but not killed, he might not be well enough to call. And regardless, he might forget. Sometimes he got to his den after a long day and with a lapse in thought he woke up the next morning, not even remembering getting into bed and falling asleep. In any case, he merely nodded his head and said, “If you want.” He was still confused, having trouble believing that anyone would care that much about him. Why? That was the question that kept raging, confined within his skull. He was not useful as a friend. He did not have insightful looks on life. He was probably a negative drain on those around him. The only way that he had ever proved useful to the world was in battle, using what he had learned those months ago to good use. Sometimes a dark part of his mind told him that this friendship thing was just a lie, something used by sentient beings to get closer to others just so they could hurt one another. He just wasn’t sure. Though capable, Snake was not a deep thinker. The fact that he was thinking so much now was frightening and gave him a headache.