Join me in death
#8
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Well, the hybrid started, I think most people can do anything they want to, but wanting to can be harder for some more than others. Indeed, motivation was what killed most ambitions, far-fetched or not. The hybrid could relate all too easily to that fact, and was still a far cry from whatever inspiration he had known as a child or as a yearling. Once upon a time, he had wanted to change the world, or at least the small part of it he had inhabited. It was a waning dream; more and more, he believed that the world could not be changed, but if he dug deep enough, there was probably still a part of him that believed that anything could happen. Someone just had to have faith in that, even if having faith was the hardest thing of all.



Laruku winced slightly when Jasper mentioned the fire and suddenly felt guilty that it seemed that both he and Ahren had suffered a disability as a result of it. Meanwhile, he had made it out more or less the same, and he had been the only one that hadn't wanted to leave in the first place. He presumed that the young cook did not know that he had tried to die in the fire and did not know any of the number of things that had been wrong with him then and now, so he wasn't quite sure how deep the question of whether or not he was okay should be taken. He shrugged, I'm okay, he answered, I wasn't injured. Life goes on. Sorry about your sense of smell though -- it must really suck. He couldn't imagine how it could have taken him so long to notice considering how important their sense of smell was. Then again, for someone with such a humanized upbringing, maybe it really didn't matter after all.



He picked up one of the bowls Jasper had laid out and began filling it with soup. Anyway, this stuff really is pretty good. You should be proud of yourself.

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