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as they thank the lord
Just one other, please. This is about... 7 days shy of his birthday, but it's his sixth full moon.
the blind can't see
His quick, ground-eating stride was not to be mistaken; the child was headed somewhere, but to him, his destination was unknown. Rather, the young sadist was simply tired of the repetitiveness of the houses sprawling before him, the way they all looked the same and how the lawns were all destroyed or taken by nature. Many of the houses were becoming overgrown and wild with plants, but he paid as little attention to such details as he possibly could; none of them where important.
The coyote youth shouldered his way into one house, nails clicking on the ground as he padded through the neat, though abandoned, interior. He didn't spend much time rooting around the house, given the itching feeling deep inside of him that gnawed incessantly at his nerves, but instead ascended the stairs quickly, as was his fashion.
In one of the rooms, he located what he was searching for; a pair of khaki coloured shorts, long, with a simple drawstring and simple pockets. It was these shorts that Andrezej took, and it was in that house that he allowed the itching to take over. It took nearly twenty or thirty minutes — he lost track of time in the midst of it all — but when Andrezej Lykoi left the house wearing those khaki shorts that were, for now, slightly too big for him, it was clear to all that there had been reached a stage in which the young demon would take more advantage of.
For Andre had emerged an Optime, for the first time in his life.
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Hope you don't mind. I need to get Icarus in more threads. 
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indent Icarus had reached the five month mark only two days before, but had barely noticed amidst the confusion and commotion that had been brought about by his father’s sudden illness. Icarus wasn’t really clued in onto what was wrong with his father – aside from the fact that he had battled a cougar and fallen into the river – but he could only hope that he would get better sooner or later. He wouldn’t be able to deal with the death of his father. At least, not this soon in his life. And even so, what kind of state would that leave Storm in?
indent This was the first time that Icarus had wandered to the Concrete Jungle and it wasn’t as exciting as he would have hoped. With thoughts of his father weighing down his high spirit, things that normally would have lured Icarus to explore only caused the young whelp to nod at. The houses were something he had never actually seen, but still they didn’t draw the pup perhaps as they should have. Finally, he stopped outside one building, sniffing in the air at what he thought was the smell of someone close by. Taking a few steps closer, the pup stopped just meters outside the front porch of one building. The darkness within was ominous, yet held a sort of mysteriousness that was drawing Icarus in. Sniffing at the sky, he took a few steps further, but hesitated when his paw snapped a twig on the ground. "Creepy", he remarked in a hushed tone to himself.
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[html]No problem.
He didn't run, but his walk up the street was brisk, urgent, as if he had somewhere to go. Perhaps it was an illusion, or perhaps he truly did have a destination; it was hard to tell in those deep, dead eyes. He didn't need to adjust to walking in that form, for some part of him had always known how to, but the hand thing was a whole other story. They clenched and unclenched as he walked, balancing himself with the gentle swinging of the arms, getting a feel for the new separate digits.
That was when the twig snapped and the voice spoke up behind him, and he turned, noticing the pup near the house he'd come out of. The boy seemed somewhat drawn to the house, hesitant by his posture, but very obviously not a coyote. He smirked and headed back, those strange hands thrust casually into the pockets of the oversized shorts.
What's creepy? he asked in his nicest, most caring voice. Bah, wish I could just rip his ears off. He didn't know how to change back, yet, so he was pretty much doomed to using deception once more to be, nice, until he thought of a way to hurt Icarus. The wolf was mainly a deep brown colour, darkened in the night, though visble ligher streaks were noticeable as well. His eyes... Well, Andre hadn't seen them yet.
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indent He instantly lifted his paw, noting that it was only debris he had stepped on, a useless twig. He wanted to go inside, into the black shadows which devoured the interior, but something held him planted there. Perhaps it was the thoughts of his father in the back of his mind – he needed to stay out of trouble while his father recovered. Yet, the simplistic intrigue and curiosity so common to youth was luring Icarus closer and closer. At least, that was, until a voice piped up behind him.
indent The voice wasn’t harsh and certainly didn’t sound threatening. Yet as Icarus turned and stared into the unfamiliar yellow eyes of the shifted coyote, he could feel something malevolent in the air. He could feel it a little before, but the presence of this coyote gave it strength, like gasoline to a fire. Giving the male an uneasy look, he answered, "That place." He wanted to turn back towards the house, but felt easy about turning his back. He didn’t suspect Andrezej of foul play, it was just that things here really were creepy.
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That place isn't bad, he informed the other. It's cool. Which was a lot to be said about anything that he considered to be, "cool," given his sadistic mind set. It would have to have sharp contraptions, and it would have to be dark and brooding, for an atmosphere, for him to even think of enjoying it. In the nighttime blanket of blackness, it was easy to appreciate the human structure much more than he would have normally.
Go on inside, it's really cool. Whether it be creepy or not; it would effectively trap the unshifted wolf, and there was a small possibility that lingered in the air, speaking toward a hilarity that would be shared only by he and his vocal chords. But that was a plan for later.
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