06-18-2008, 09:48 AM
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He wondered if it was true that time healed everything. It seemed like a logical thing, but it was hard to apply objective logic to things that were so inherently different. It was the hardest thing in the world to look at himself from a distance when he couldn't even look within himself and not be confused. The monster was silent and had been for several weeks already; would he dare take it as a sign? Or did it really matter in the end anyway, whether or not he was there? He could feel the scar over his throat every time he swallowed, but it had long since stopped stinging. As with all the other scars that were scattered about his lanky, coyote body, it had healed over to leave behind rough skin. The fur would never come back though. What did that count for metaphorically?
There were footsteps out in the rain and a voice he couldn't make out over the splatterings of water, though it was familiar. Laruku was a hermit hiding in remote areas of the forest in a tiny cave no one would notice. It would be easy to ignore the visitor who had either been lucky enough or persistent enough to track him down in the pouring rain; indeed, apathy will him to do so. It would certainly further the idea that he didn't want to bother anymore. It was funny though, some days, the more he lay around dreaming about dandelions, the more he remembered all the standards he'd once set for himself. Once upon a time, he'd been a better person than this, or at least, he had tried harder to be. Whether or not he wanted it to be so, he was still alive, and the world deserved better if it still had to put up with him.
He sighed quietly and turned around, though he remained lying where he was. The shape in the rain was easily recognizable.
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He wondered if it was true that time healed everything. It seemed like a logical thing, but it was hard to apply objective logic to things that were so inherently different. It was the hardest thing in the world to look at himself from a distance when he couldn't even look within himself and not be confused. The monster was silent and had been for several weeks already; would he dare take it as a sign? Or did it really matter in the end anyway, whether or not he was there? He could feel the scar over his throat every time he swallowed, but it had long since stopped stinging. As with all the other scars that were scattered about his lanky, coyote body, it had healed over to leave behind rough skin. The fur would never come back though. What did that count for metaphorically?
There were footsteps out in the rain and a voice he couldn't make out over the splatterings of water, though it was familiar. Laruku was a hermit hiding in remote areas of the forest in a tiny cave no one would notice. It would be easy to ignore the visitor who had either been lucky enough or persistent enough to track him down in the pouring rain; indeed, apathy will him to do so. It would certainly further the idea that he didn't want to bother anymore. It was funny though, some days, the more he lay around dreaming about dandelions, the more he remembered all the standards he'd once set for himself. Once upon a time, he'd been a better person than this, or at least, he had tried harder to be. Whether or not he wanted it to be so, he was still alive, and the world deserved better if it still had to put up with him.
He sighed quietly and turned around, though he remained lying where he was. The shape in the rain was easily recognizable.
Iskata, get out of the rain,he told her tiredly with the slightest hint of exasperation.