10-05-2009, 01:16 AM
Thank you; he is very fun to play! I love Bramble. (: 500+
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If Snake was one thing during this whole excursion, it was utterly oblivious. Not knowing himself how to ask in a girl’s presence, and therefore also not understanding how he himself should act, he merely acted as he would towards any other. He hoped it didn’t offend her—his actions and his expressions. It wasn’t just her; it was universal. He remembered his mother observing her twin sons and mentioning that they were both too serious. She was right, partially. Snake was the serious one—nothing seemed to faze him, and similarly nothing seemed to please him. Foxhound was serious some of the time… When he was not furious and lashing out. The intricacies of Foxhound’s complexes towards Snake were very deep, but it caused a torrential rift between them. Whatever brotherly affections that had once been between Snake and his twin ended the day Patriot came and extended his influence over ‘Hound.
Digressions about past histories aside, he was nonetheless pleased to some degree when she expressed happiness for his impromptu gift. He didn’t mind giving it away. He had a hunch that there might be a similar glass piece on the other side of the car, and he already knew that there was one inside, on the floor. Girls had more use for mirrors, anyway. He didn’t really notice her small jerk, or really the small connection of their fingers beyond the millisecond of warmth that passed between them. He remained unemotional, though he did give a small nod to her thanks… and maybe even the barest ghost of a smile.
She turned away from him slightly, looking into the mirror and moving it about until she caught the full glare of the sun reflected into her eyes. He half-stepped forward, to knock the object away if it caused any more mischief, but it was a false call—she regained her vision and then spoke, showing it in a similar fashion to him. He blinked, gave a surprised grunt, and covered his olive eyes with a hand. When the reflecting mirror was put away again, he lowered his arm. She described the mirror perfectly, in the words a lycanthrope would use, musing about the curiosities of humans. Snake knew a bit more than she did, though. In New Haven, many of the buildings and skyscrapers were still used by those with Luperci. Mirrors were pretty commonplace, and they knew what they were called. “They called them mirrors where I came from,” he murmured. Despite his own wishes, he couldn’t erase that he was born in that city. It was his original home, not that he’d want to be associated with it. “Human devices made out of glass. They used them to look at themselves and at things behind them… Though they seem to be pretty potent blinding weapons.”
One who knew Snake would know that any kind of jab at being amusing was very strange for his character. But he knew he was in the company of someone and felt the small need to at least try to amuse them. He didn’t want to lose the company just yet.
If Snake was one thing during this whole excursion, it was utterly oblivious. Not knowing himself how to ask in a girl’s presence, and therefore also not understanding how he himself should act, he merely acted as he would towards any other. He hoped it didn’t offend her—his actions and his expressions. It wasn’t just her; it was universal. He remembered his mother observing her twin sons and mentioning that they were both too serious. She was right, partially. Snake was the serious one—nothing seemed to faze him, and similarly nothing seemed to please him. Foxhound was serious some of the time… When he was not furious and lashing out. The intricacies of Foxhound’s complexes towards Snake were very deep, but it caused a torrential rift between them. Whatever brotherly affections that had once been between Snake and his twin ended the day Patriot came and extended his influence over ‘Hound.
Digressions about past histories aside, he was nonetheless pleased to some degree when she expressed happiness for his impromptu gift. He didn’t mind giving it away. He had a hunch that there might be a similar glass piece on the other side of the car, and he already knew that there was one inside, on the floor. Girls had more use for mirrors, anyway. He didn’t really notice her small jerk, or really the small connection of their fingers beyond the millisecond of warmth that passed between them. He remained unemotional, though he did give a small nod to her thanks… and maybe even the barest ghost of a smile.
She turned away from him slightly, looking into the mirror and moving it about until she caught the full glare of the sun reflected into her eyes. He half-stepped forward, to knock the object away if it caused any more mischief, but it was a false call—she regained her vision and then spoke, showing it in a similar fashion to him. He blinked, gave a surprised grunt, and covered his olive eyes with a hand. When the reflecting mirror was put away again, he lowered his arm. She described the mirror perfectly, in the words a lycanthrope would use, musing about the curiosities of humans. Snake knew a bit more than she did, though. In New Haven, many of the buildings and skyscrapers were still used by those with Luperci. Mirrors were pretty commonplace, and they knew what they were called. “They called them mirrors where I came from,” he murmured. Despite his own wishes, he couldn’t erase that he was born in that city. It was his original home, not that he’d want to be associated with it. “Human devices made out of glass. They used them to look at themselves and at things behind them… Though they seem to be pretty potent blinding weapons.”
One who knew Snake would know that any kind of jab at being amusing was very strange for his character. But he knew he was in the company of someone and felt the small need to at least try to amuse them. He didn’t want to lose the company just yet.
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