merely degenerates [p]

Ezra Rosen · 08-19-2010, 02:02 AM

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SIEEEEEEE. Halifax . I like the fact that Harlowe looks like a Siamese kitty. >) no idea how this got so long >_<

The shattered skyline of the city had been making Ezra itch for adventure for days. It had seemed like forever since the hybrid had gone on a trip with the intention of getting lost. His poor soul had been resting this summer in the Court, lavishing in the new and invigorating feeling of release. This release was just utter euphoria. No one was chasing him, no one was bothering him. He just asked for rest and got rest. Though his duties as a pack member would surely pick up soon, the time in between now and then was a sheer treat. That skyline was intriguing, however. Much of where Ezra had come from was completely decimated and even then his old life was deep in an old-growth forest that was untouched by man for centuries. This was completely new.

So, despite the fact that his patch of ground was exceptionally inviting on this crisp morning, Ezra got up. His new home was beside a willow tree on the northern side of the Court, near a clump of old hemlocks that shaded his ever so comfortable bed. With every passing day, the mutt had found more bedding and creature comforts to stock up on. Though he was still unfamiliar with tools and anything remotely human, Ezra still managed to find scraps of metal and wood that he could find a use for later. It was something to be proud of, his little home – it was his, he had made it, and was comfortable somewhere.

The flies were bothering him again. His ebony tail whipped as far as it would go, yet still unable to hit the sweet spot the flies were getting at. The boy growled in irritation, stretched quickly, and broke off into a spur-of-the-moment sprint. He was headed towards the city, and whatever was waiting there for him. The morning had surprised Ezra. It had started off chilly, a sign of colder days to come, but the clouds had gone now and the sun shone through. The mutt started to pant as he galloped over his mossy Court. The end of the pack territory gave him a moment of unease, but the feeling was quickly drowned by the overwhelming desire to explore.

Ezra passed the coast where Ever and he had met just a few short days ago. His (now) dirty white paws slowed down to a brisk jog. The woman had been so entrancing and the mutt was completely enamored. The gray lady was someone he never wanted to forget, and definitely see again. He had to know about her, had to have her in his life. It was inevitable. She was almost unreal, an angel. And he had to have her.

Today was not the day for lingering on the past, however. The day shone a beautiful bright light that seemed to infiltrate Ezra’s soul with an upbeat, whispering, glean. He smiled. It was just too damn perfect. The happy idiot picked up his old pace, barreling towards the cracked streets that seemed to call his name. He now ran on an abandoned highway, and the unusual feeling beneath his feet unnerved him. A quick snort escaped his inky nose before he slowed down once again. Before him stood a tremendous building, with two long strips of pavement going in opposite directions. The area confused him. The city was still within his grasp, but this seemed to be a more reasonable area to explore. The amount of metal shining in the afternoons’ sun seemed to give the place an aura of… something, something he couldn’t put his finger on. A particularly shiny object stood about a couple hundred feet away from Ezra. White paint was peeling off in strips, and whatever metal was exposed was mangled and rusted through to the core. A trot brought him over to the peculiar thing, which he attempted to jump into. The rusted wing broken by the entrance had blocked his way. Ezra looked the plane over one time again, perplexed. Peculiar.

table © Alaine<3

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Harlowe D'Angelo · 08-27-2010, 03:48 AM

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Word Count :: 601

The pale-furred youth wandered forward, taking his time as he went. There was no reason for him to hurry, for there was no reason for him to be here, there, or anywhere, really. Though he was a member of Dahlia de Mai, he truly felt no connection to the wolves there—he lived there solely for Larkspur, and otherwise he did not care a drop for anyone else in the pack. They meant nothing, they held nothing—whatever interest they had, it was nothing compared to the secrets within his uncle-cousin. There was no objective for him to settle within the pack; he had yet to discern any real duties that he needed to perform, and nobody seemed to care at all.

He no longer had a mother or aunt to attend to him, and he had alienated his sisters entirely—not only through what he'd done to Rio, but by leaving Caprica and Lucia behind. He did not even know that one of his sisters had already departed, heading off for parts unknown. He had severed ties—albeit temporarily, as he saw it—with that part of himself. He was free, though there was no particular elation at his freedom—he did not want to be free, and he had been doing exactly this for months now. No one had bothered him in Phoenix Valley, and no one bothered him here. Left to his own devices, Harlowe would surely go mad; he wished for nothing more than to serve Larkspur better, to serve his ancestors better by learning about them—he wanted to know everything.

The pale wolf wandered forward, heading for the Halifax library. Many of the books there were still in good shape, still quite readable. Harlowe could never get enough of books; he would have spent his life in them if he could have. There was such magic in fiction, the wild stories spun by men years and years older than he was. Harlowe could not write fiction. He had tried many times, but the only things he seemed to excel at writing were his thoughts, far too disjointed and randomized to so much as consider sharing with another living being. The youth would not have wanted to share these journals even if they were organized in any sensible fashion—he had written about Rio, and he did not know anyone to know about her. What they had shared was between them—no one could understand, and no one could know. Not even Mother.

He looked up and around, suddenly realizing he had no idea where he was. Harlowe had ended up in a completely unfamiliar place, surrounded by hulking metal objects. Sighing heavily, he made a rather disgusted face—for a wolf, he sure had a shitty sense of navigation and direction. He had been to the library quite a few times before, and he couldn't so much as find his way back there. He did not know what to call the large metal things just yet; they were broken and rotted for the most part, beyond identification. Some of his stories mentioned airplanes, but the youth had yet to connect those stories with what he was actually seeing before him. These rusted hunks of humanity could not have floated high in the air above them.

Movement caught the youth's eye, and he turned his head catch it, alertness crossing his features in raised ears and a suspicious, curious look across his chocolate-tipped face. The tawny youth made his way over slowly, perhaps hoping to find out more about these things and where exactly he was.

Table thanks to Fae!

Ezra Rosen · 09-09-2010, 02:30 PM

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so sorry I took so long. :< i hate having no time anymore so sorry this is short>_>

These rusted machines were something Ezra wanted to explore. Despite the fact that he couldn’t get into the first one, the beast started trekking to another one. There were about 8 of them spread out on the cracked landing strip. The nearby buildings and concrete confused Ezra, he was one to avoid any part of human interaction. His worldview was skewed in the direction of pure wilderness and whenever humans were mentioned, it was hushed and full of scorn. The Rosen family knew nothing about airplanes, city blocks, or medical innovations the humans once made.

The day was still young and the boy squinted in the morning light. He reached another rusted piece of metal, but someone was already waiting there. It had caught him by surprise, it didn’t seem like a very popular place for a wolf to wander through. His other male was peculiar looking – his features were unlike any wolf Ezra had come across before. Ezra stared at the tawny creature. He was tall, and overbearing, just like every other werewolf here. Even though he was starting to move past his bias against werewolves, the mere irritation of them every day brought him down.

“So you’ve seen them too?” Ezra asked, feeling somewhat stupidly. He was not a fan of this kind but as trying his best to be friendly. Even if he looked like an idiot doing it. “Any idea what they are?” Ezra looked at the other creature, giving a sad half-smile.

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Harlowe D'Angelo · 10-08-2010, 07:19 AM

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HEY UM I SUCK OK?

The pallid youth was not generally one for company, but he was not particularly averse to it, either. His mother wanted him to be a sociable creature with good manners and aptitude for conversation. He could not fail her, awkward as it was for him to actually interact with other creatures. This stranger was no different, and as the male noticed Harlowe, the youth gave a strange, uncomfortable smile. It did not touch his face other than his lips, leaving his eyes and brow expressionless. The gangly youth nodded his head, running one of his chocolate-tinged paws over the edge of the plane's wing. “I have no idea what they are,” he said, obviously disappointment in his voice. He was dismayed with his own lack of knowledge and often frustrated by it. “They look like the car-machines from the streets, sort of,” he said, surmising that the inner compartment was intended to house humans. But why were these built with ridiculous things stuck out on the side? The cars were streamlined and thin, intended to move in great packs up and down the streets at high speeds. He had surmised this from his reading, of course—in his mind, the roar of traffic was quite clear and plain, the yelling of the human occupants. Some aspects of cars were, of course, perplexing—he had searched all over many cars, and he had never found their horns. Of course, he was assuming they were horns like on a bull or antlers like on a deer, and he had no idea they were intended to make noise.

Table thanks to Fae!

Ezra Rosen · 10-10-2010, 06:26 PM

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<3 shit post sorrrryyyy

“I don’t get humans at all,” Ezra said after the other male spoke, and he watched the werewolf with a guarded curiosity. The mutt felt the limitations of his form more than ever in the others company. If Ezra wanted to jump into the plane, it would be close to impossible. He sighed, filling the empty silence that had fallen between them. “I don’t know what objects you’re talking about. Are they metal? Do they look like these too? I’ve always tried to avoid human things… It’s just easier for me that way,”

Though in all honesty he didn’t avoid them, he was just never exposed to humans in his past life. He was raised in the most remote place imaginable, where humans were just a myth and seeing an artifact from their existence was a rare sight. Ezra knew nothing of airplanes or the airport where he stood, nervously pawing the ground. “I’m Ezra, by the way, from the Court.”

Harlowe D'Angelo · 10-15-2010, 07:02 AM

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314 :o

Harlowe understood some facets of humanity, though there were other parts of it he found utterly confusing. Despite his extensive reading, he still did not understand the purpose of clothing, and so he wore none, though he had seen other Luperci doing so. The warmth was one factor that might have made sense to the logically-minded canine, but so many adornments did not seem intended to promote warmth, and in the summer months, wearing clothing at all seemed completely illogical. “They were confusing creatures,” he said. “But they did make some beautiful things,” he added. “The car-things are smaller, and more square. And they don't have these,” he added, again tapping the wing. “I like human books. They had so many grandoise ideas,” he said, growing reminiscent for his pages and that intoxicating scent they carried. It was quite earthy and reminded him of the den and his mother.

“Harlowe D'Angelo, from Dahlia. What's the Court?” he asked, having no idea about most of the surrounding packs. He vaguely knew of an Inferni, and there was a place that had something to do with Miracles, but he could not truly bring himself to care about these places. Larkspur was not among these places, and so he only cared about Dahlia de Mai. That was where his uncle had gone, and so that was where Harlowe belonged. He should have gone sooner; there was something sweet and beautiful in this freedom he was granted here. No one told him to do a single thing, and he was free to act as he pleased. The pallid boy did not truly comprehend the responsibilities of packhood, of course, and in his current state of mind he could hope to achieve a rank no greater than subordinate or perhaps a step above. Without working for his home, he would reap no true reward of belonging to the group.

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