08-29-2008, 10:37 PM
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_____He hated the routine his world had fallen into, the cadence in it was as slow as the day when he was very much used to having a better grip on the flow of time. When the days and night started to bleed onto each other and he felt the very pace at which he lived start to slow, he itched to sent himself packing. But in this case, he couldn't bring himself to just pack up and leave while a certain level of chaos breathed down his back. He didn't lack the camaraderie that some of his previous travelling companions had, in fact Laurel liked the camaraderie very much. His tendency to treat any and everything that he came across like family was both a flawed skill and a skilful flaw, so it was a put up and shut up situation.
_____But he was quite sure that everything would come to pass and that life would pick up. Even if he hadn't noticed just how easily time got away from him to the point that he didn't notice that his life was in fact, slowing down. Though age no doubt attributed to that, it had come much more gradually than all of this. It seemed like every time he had come up to the chance table before that, he had always rolled lucky sevens or some variation thereof. But now he felt like every time he gave that simple flick of the wrist, snake eyes stared back at him. He drew in a long breath, stretching when he decided that he no longer wanted to sift through his thoughts, and then forced it out in a huff. Things could have been worse, he supposed. He could have been out of his mind; he could have been one of the sick.
_____Approaching footsteps caught his attention—as reflected in the way his ears twitched with acknowledgement—at the sound of someone coming along behind him and he cast a lazy glance over his shoulder at the figure emerging from the haze. He had gotten used to Nikita's stature and build to the point where he could pick her out before the colours meshed across her body, before his brain recognised her on appearance alone. She seemed to have regained the rigid sense of alertness that had been absent in the previous days and he thought it was just a sign that things were returning to normal. It was normal for her to be that way, always a nice contrast to his outward demeanour.
_____“How're you feeling?”
_____He hated the routine his world had fallen into, the cadence in it was as slow as the day when he was very much used to having a better grip on the flow of time. When the days and night started to bleed onto each other and he felt the very pace at which he lived start to slow, he itched to sent himself packing. But in this case, he couldn't bring himself to just pack up and leave while a certain level of chaos breathed down his back. He didn't lack the camaraderie that some of his previous travelling companions had, in fact Laurel liked the camaraderie very much. His tendency to treat any and everything that he came across like family was both a flawed skill and a skilful flaw, so it was a put up and shut up situation.
_____But he was quite sure that everything would come to pass and that life would pick up. Even if he hadn't noticed just how easily time got away from him to the point that he didn't notice that his life was in fact, slowing down. Though age no doubt attributed to that, it had come much more gradually than all of this. It seemed like every time he had come up to the chance table before that, he had always rolled lucky sevens or some variation thereof. But now he felt like every time he gave that simple flick of the wrist, snake eyes stared back at him. He drew in a long breath, stretching when he decided that he no longer wanted to sift through his thoughts, and then forced it out in a huff. Things could have been worse, he supposed. He could have been out of his mind; he could have been one of the sick.
_____Approaching footsteps caught his attention—as reflected in the way his ears twitched with acknowledgement—at the sound of someone coming along behind him and he cast a lazy glance over his shoulder at the figure emerging from the haze. He had gotten used to Nikita's stature and build to the point where he could pick her out before the colours meshed across her body, before his brain recognised her on appearance alone. She seemed to have regained the rigid sense of alertness that had been absent in the previous days and he thought it was just a sign that things were returning to normal. It was normal for her to be that way, always a nice contrast to his outward demeanour.
_____“How're you feeling?”