10-07-2009, 09:48 PM
Just realized that, in human years, Snake is 15 years old and Bram is 25. Kind of creeped me out. XD <3
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How Snake got the shred of chivalry that he had was beyond him. Living in New Haven was pretty much living in filth—anyone who said that Patriot and his band of savages were gentlemanly should probably start taking some type of medication. Perhaps he gleaned several aspects of being polite from his father—Laurel was a gentleman in a very quiet way, much as Snake was. Of course, Snake wouldn’t really like to believe that he was acting as his father would, due to his paternal complex. His mother, when it came to etiquette, wasn’t much better than Patriot. So it was a decent mystery. Perhaps it came naturally to him. Despite his mechanical shell, Snake had a heart in soul buried in there somewhere. It just lie sleeping most of the time.
Instincts? he wondered mentally; he couldn’t help but doubt that, though he knew that they were usually the best things to trust, if one was to trust anything at all. When she asked if he knew what a python was, he shook his head. “No,” he answered simply. For any matter, he didn’t know what kind of range the species of ‘snake’ had. From what he knew of them, they were legless reptiles that slithered through the undergrowth, hunting for food. He didn’t know, however, that there were certain species that had venom that could kill in minutes. Or that still other species could climb trees more expertly than monkeys, or that some hurled their bodies through the air and ‘flew’ to other branches. No, to him they giant, scaled worms that he had seen once or twice in the dead leaves of the forests of Canada, and only in the warmer summers. “What are they? Where do they live?” he asked, his curiosity emerging far more than it usually did. While some children consistently asked ‘why’, ‘how’, and all of those questions, Snake had simply absorbed the world as it was. This conversation was a little more interesting to him, however, than the usual.
How Snake got the shred of chivalry that he had was beyond him. Living in New Haven was pretty much living in filth—anyone who said that Patriot and his band of savages were gentlemanly should probably start taking some type of medication. Perhaps he gleaned several aspects of being polite from his father—Laurel was a gentleman in a very quiet way, much as Snake was. Of course, Snake wouldn’t really like to believe that he was acting as his father would, due to his paternal complex. His mother, when it came to etiquette, wasn’t much better than Patriot. So it was a decent mystery. Perhaps it came naturally to him. Despite his mechanical shell, Snake had a heart in soul buried in there somewhere. It just lie sleeping most of the time.
Instincts? he wondered mentally; he couldn’t help but doubt that, though he knew that they were usually the best things to trust, if one was to trust anything at all. When she asked if he knew what a python was, he shook his head. “No,” he answered simply. For any matter, he didn’t know what kind of range the species of ‘snake’ had. From what he knew of them, they were legless reptiles that slithered through the undergrowth, hunting for food. He didn’t know, however, that there were certain species that had venom that could kill in minutes. Or that still other species could climb trees more expertly than monkeys, or that some hurled their bodies through the air and ‘flew’ to other branches. No, to him they giant, scaled worms that he had seen once or twice in the dead leaves of the forests of Canada, and only in the warmer summers. “What are they? Where do they live?” he asked, his curiosity emerging far more than it usually did. While some children consistently asked ‘why’, ‘how’, and all of those questions, Snake had simply absorbed the world as it was. This conversation was a little more interesting to him, however, than the usual.
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