01-02-2011, 02:35 AM
[html]SSWM:484 set along the borders of PV, cause Prip hangs out at the edges of PV a lot lately.
Night was nearly falling and returning to the ranch wasn't even a thought in his head. Never had Pripyat failed to come home around night fall or shortly thereafter, but neither had Geneva or Jefferson ever told him he had to. The smoky colored child had just always done so. That was home, one went home at the end of the day. And even after gaining the gradual freedom from his mother and father's authority he still went home at night. He had left Phoenix Valley only once before, though he knew that was not strictly forbidden either. Yet it felt forbidden, although he knew that both his mother and father wanted him to grow, wanted to him to expand his horizons. His horizons only went as far as the boundaries of Phoenix Valley and there they stopped, and his imagination took over.
Inferni had been an adventure and surely there were others waiting for him out there. He had told them that he wanted to travel, and he had met no resistance there either. Yet still he remained fixed at the borders, like a statue. He could step over then and wander where his feet took him, but he remained. He remained there and he remained four legged and he remained optimistic despite all this. Pripyat did not doubt he would soon visit all the packs and whatever else was out there to see, but he wished to do so on two legs, something he still hadn't done. He had an adult rank, they treated him as such, but he couldn’t do everything they could do, a sad fact of his young age.
Yet seven months. Pripyat Soul felt he should have been able to shift now, and he had decided to try again. The sun had been gone for hours, it disappeared early in the winter, and night was truly in full force before he settled on one spot, the most northern tip still claimed by Phoenix Valley. This place he favored above others, although why he wasn't certain. It was there he settled, seating himself comfortably in the snow and seemingly oblivious to the fresh flakes that were settling about him and upon him. Closing his eyes he focused on the transformation, just as one should and waited.
And nothing happened. Opening his eyes he found himself in the same state he had been in moment before, only far more frustrated. A low growl grew in his throat and emerged from his mouth as words. "Damn!" With the outburst the frustration melted away and Pripyat shook the snow out from his fur. It would happen, he knew, in time, and why try to force it? Yet it would bother him until he could shift, just like anyone else. And he wouldn't quit until he could. Closing his eyes he focused again, and he kept them closed this time, and he waited.
Night was nearly falling and returning to the ranch wasn't even a thought in his head. Never had Pripyat failed to come home around night fall or shortly thereafter, but neither had Geneva or Jefferson ever told him he had to. The smoky colored child had just always done so. That was home, one went home at the end of the day. And even after gaining the gradual freedom from his mother and father's authority he still went home at night. He had left Phoenix Valley only once before, though he knew that was not strictly forbidden either. Yet it felt forbidden, although he knew that both his mother and father wanted him to grow, wanted to him to expand his horizons. His horizons only went as far as the boundaries of Phoenix Valley and there they stopped, and his imagination took over.
Inferni had been an adventure and surely there were others waiting for him out there. He had told them that he wanted to travel, and he had met no resistance there either. Yet still he remained fixed at the borders, like a statue. He could step over then and wander where his feet took him, but he remained. He remained there and he remained four legged and he remained optimistic despite all this. Pripyat did not doubt he would soon visit all the packs and whatever else was out there to see, but he wished to do so on two legs, something he still hadn't done. He had an adult rank, they treated him as such, but he couldn’t do everything they could do, a sad fact of his young age.
Yet seven months. Pripyat Soul felt he should have been able to shift now, and he had decided to try again. The sun had been gone for hours, it disappeared early in the winter, and night was truly in full force before he settled on one spot, the most northern tip still claimed by Phoenix Valley. This place he favored above others, although why he wasn't certain. It was there he settled, seating himself comfortably in the snow and seemingly oblivious to the fresh flakes that were settling about him and upon him. Closing his eyes he focused on the transformation, just as one should and waited.
And nothing happened. Opening his eyes he found himself in the same state he had been in moment before, only far more frustrated. A low growl grew in his throat and emerged from his mouth as words. "Damn!" With the outburst the frustration melted away and Pripyat shook the snow out from his fur. It would happen, he knew, in time, and why try to force it? Yet it would bother him until he could shift, just like anyone else. And he wouldn't quit until he could. Closing his eyes he focused again, and he kept them closed this time, and he waited.